! 


mil  j 
I 


mi  !         i  ii 


THE  WORLD 
AND  THOMAS  KELLY 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  ARTHUR  TRAIN 

THE    GOLDFISH 

THE   PRISONER   AT  THE    BAR 

COURTS,    CRIMINALS   AND   THE    CAMORRA 

TRUE  STORIES  OF  CRIME 
MCALLISTER  AND  HIS  DOUBLE 

THE    CONFESSIONS    OF   ARTEMAS   QUIBBLE 

C.  Q.,  OR  IN  THE  WIRELESS  HOUSE 

THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 
THE  MAN  WHO  ROCKED  THE  EARTH 

MORTMAIN 


THE  WORLD 
AND  THOMAS   KELLY 


BY 

ARTHUR   TRAIN 

Author  of  "The  Goldfish,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1917 


* 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Published  October,  1917 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  CO. 


FREDERICA  PULITZER 


THE 
WORLD    AND    THOMAS    KELLY 


THE  day  Tom  Kelly  was  born  the  "Old  Elm"  on 
Boston  Common  was  struck  by  lightning.  This  be 
ing  one  of  those  phenomena  of  nature  denominated 
"acts  of  God"  by  the  insurance  companies,  the  cor 
rect  inhabitants  of  the  ancient  New  England  capital 
were  somewhat  in  doubt  as  to  whether  to  consider 
the  occurrence  a  "deliberately  unfriendly  act"  on 
the  part  of  the  Deity,  or  to  regard  it  merely  as 
an  uncalled-for  and  rather  ill-advised  eccentricity. 
However,  by  this  fact  the  well-informed  reader  can 
fix  with  accuracy  the  date  upon  which  this  story 
opens. 

There  was  doubtless  no  significance  in  the  coinci 
dence  of  the  accident  to  the  historic  Tree  with  that 
other  quite  common  and  natural  event,  which  had 
taken  place  earlier  in  the  day  in  one  of  the  upper 
chambers  of  a  seventeen-foot  brick  house  on  New- 
bury  Street,  in  the  district  of  "made"  land  known 
as  the  "Back  Bay."  So  far  as  Boston  was  con 
cerned,  the  advent  of  the  infant  Tom  attracted  no 
more  attention  than  did  the  exit  of  Dr.  Tucker 


Ji£  \WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 


from  the  Kelly  domicile.  Frankly,  it  created  none 
at  all.  Dr.  Tucker  was  as  much  of  an  institution 
in  Boston  as  the  "Old  Elm,"  and  not  to  have  been 
guided  into  the  world  by  his  skilled,  though  some 
what  effeminate  hand,  would  have  been,  indeed, 
to  argue  oneself  unborn.  But  this  fate,  at  any 
rate,  Tom  escaped,  and  his  arrival  was  in  every 
respect  as  punctilious  as  the  local  requirements 
demanded. 

As  Dr.  Tucker  came  neatly  down  the  small  wind 
ing  stairs  he  was  waylaid  in  the  tiny  hall  by  the 
elder  Kelly,  a  short,  red-headed,  aggressive-looking 
person,  who  had  been  impatiently  biting  his  mus 
tache  for  upward  of  an  hour  in  the  adjacent  dining- 
room. 

"A  beautiful  little  boy!"  smiled  Dr.  Tucker 
brightly.  "And  mother  is  doing  nicely !" 

The  red-headed  man  mumbled  something  that 
might  have  been  taken  either  as  an  imprecation  or 
a  rendition  of  thanks.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  felt 
abashed  that  a  man  of  Dr.  Tucker's  well-known 
social  position  should  see  him  and  his  in  their 
nakedness.  For  Mrs.  Dr.  Tucker  had  been  a  Rob- 
bins!  Had  Dr.  Tucker  been  called  Dr.  Jones  or 
Dr.  Watts  he,  Kelly,  would  have  slapped  him  upon 
the  nearest  adjacent  part  of  his  anatomy,  and  of 
fered  him  a  slug  of  whiskey.  But  in  the  face  of  the 
husband  of  a  Robbins  he  was  dumb.  There  was  a 
disgusting  atmosphere  of  benignity  about  this  re 
fined  gentleman  who  condescended  so  efficiently  to 
the  domestic  exigencies  of  the  Kellys,  and  deigned 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY          3 

to  send  them  a  substantial  bill  afterward  for  his 
services. 

Dr.  Tucker  did  not  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Kelly, 
for  he  did  not  care  to  cultivate  the  merely  social 
side  of  his  profession.  So  he  nodded  patronizingly 
to  him,  lifted  his  tall  silk  hat  lightly  from  the  black 
walnut  horror  that  filled  one  entire  side  of  the  front 
hall  of  the  house,  reluctantly  grasped  his  small 
black  bag,  and  tripped  down  the  four  front  stone 
steps  to  the  brick  sidewalk.  At  the  bottom  he 
stopped. 

"I  will  return  this  afternoon/'  he  remarked 
crisply  to  Kelly,  who  had  followed  him  out  and  was 
standing  in  the  sunshine  on  the  top  of  the  steps. 
Kelly  nodded. 

"All  right/5  he  answered  in  a  slightly  hostile  tone. 
For  some  unaccountable  reason  he  would  have  liked 
to  accelerate  the  doctor's  progress  with  a  kick. 

Dr.  Tucker,  in  that  rarefied  aura  always  surround 
ing  the  successful  men  of  New  England,  continued 
on  his  way  down  the  street,  totally  unconscious  of 
the  feelings  which  he  had  so  innocently  stimulated 
in  the  heart  of  the  man  who  would  later  send  him 
a  check.  He  had  a  case  coming  on  down  nearer 
the  Public  Garden,  and  a  couple  of  calls  to  make  on 
the  way  up  on  ladies  who  were  doing  as  well  as 
could  be  expected. 

Kelly  turned  slowly  indoors,  observing  with  rage 
the  blue  iridescence  of  the  silver-plated,  but  neg 
lected,  bell-knob  which  defiantly  told  all  the  world 
that  at  "23"  dwelt  "Kelly."  He  had  hesitated  a 


4  THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

long  time  before  making  up  his  mind  whether  or 
not  to  put  his  name  on  that  bell.  It  was  bad  enough 
to  be  named  Kelly  in  Boston  without  flaunting  it 
in  the  faces  of  the  dapper  gentlemen  and  correctly 
sedate  females  who  hastened  so  assiduously  by,  as 
if  deeming  it  quite  improper  to  "go  down- town" 
merely  for  the  pleasure  of  it.  Then  the  faint,  di 
luted  traces  of  Irish  in  his  blood  had  cried  out  (the 
Kellys  had  come  over  in  1635),  and  he  had  told 
Mr.  Putnam,  the  "Glazier  and  Hanger,"  to  en 
grave  the  name  in  letters  so  big  that  neither  King 
George  nor  anybody  else  would  need  spectacles  to 
read  it.  For  a  while  after  that  he  had  felt  quite 
John  Hancockian. 

Mr.  Putnam  in  due  course  had  engraved  the  said 
plate,  and  had  duly  affixed  it  to  the  stone  jamb  of 
the  vestibule  of  the  house,  connecting  the  knob  or 
"pull"  with  a  copper  wire — exposed  on  the  inside 
of  the  vestibule — which  ran  through  the  interior 
complexities  of  the  floors  and  walls  of  the  dwelling 
until  it  reached  the  kitchen,  where  it  joined  itself  to 
a  dangling  bell,  one  of  a  dozen  dangling  bells,  on 
a  strip  of  wood  near  the  ceiling.  When  anybody 
jerked  the  knob  on  the  outside  of  the  house,  the 
energy  this  generated  was  transferred  along  the  wire 
to  the  bell  in  the  kitchen  so  that  it  jangled  loudly. 
Likewise,  it  must  be  confessed,  did  a  few  of  the  other 
bells — but  an  intelligent  cook  quickly  learned  to  dis 
criminate  sympathetically  among  the  parlor,  dining- 
room,  bedroom,  and  front  door-bells.  In  reality  only 
the  front  door-bell  ever  jangled,  since  the  "second" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY  5 

girl  was  always  up-stairs,  anyway,  and  you  could  not 
expect  the  cook,  even  if  earning  four  dollars  and  a 
quarter  a  week,  to  come  traipsing  up  three  flights  of 
stairs  to  see  what  was  wanted. 

In  Boston  in  the  latter  decades  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  the  surname  of  every  sober,  decent  man, 
provided  he  had  reached  the  social  status  at  which 
it  was  uttered  at  all  and  not  merely  ignored,  was 
prefixed  by  a  " mister."  "Mister"  that  man  was 
called — Mister  Tighe,  Mister  Higgins,  Mister  Doyle 
—whether  plumber,  butcher,  hack-driver,  horse-car 
conductor,  grocery-man,  or  remover  of  garbage. 
The  Declaration  of  Independence,  erroneously  as 
sumed  to  have  been  composed  by  a  Bostonian,  or 
one  at  least  connected  by  blood  with  Boston,  had 
contained  the  sacrosanct  assertion  that  all  men  had 
been  created  equal.  However  they  might  have  been 
created,  all  Boston  knew  that  they  were  equal  no 
longer,  but  being  entitled  to  "mister"  at  birth,  the 
handle  could  not  easily  be  separated  thereafter  from 
a  vessel  no  matter  how  cracked  or  weak.  More 
over,  to  speak  of  a  policeman  as  Mister  Grady,  or 
to  a  postman  as  Mister  O'Toole,  tended  to  keep  him 
at  a  distance  otherwise  impossible,  and  as  was  proper. 
Imagine  a  Boston  lady  or  gentleman  in  1885  ad 
dressing  a  bluecoat  as  "Grady"!  It  would  have 
instantly  put  him  upon  an  impossibly  familiar  foot 
ing  !  So  all,  without  exception,  when  engaging  one 
of  those  strange  and  dangerous  artifices  of  man 
which  even  to-day  stand  at  the  corners  of  the  Back 
Bay  behind  impossibly  stiff  and  rheumatic  cab- 


6  THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

horses,  addressed  the  owner  as  Mr.  Timmins  or 
Mr.  McCarthy.  They  may  do  so  still.  I  fear 
not. 

Kelly,  senior,  entered  the  vestibule,  mechanically 
wiping  his  feet  on  the  threadbare  cocoa-mat  inside, 
and  tried  the  inner  door.  The  catch  had  snapped. 
In  his  annoyance  at  Dr.  Tucker  he  had  foolishly 
locked  himself  out.  Thus  he  was  compelled  to  re 
trace  his  steps  and  ring  the  door-bell,  whose  tin 
tinnabulations  made  themselves  dimly  heard  through 
the  laundry  window,  which  opened  into  the  "  grass- 
plot  "  on  the  left  of  the  steps.  There  was  no  grass 
in  the  plot.  In  default  thereof  it  was  adorned  with 
several  pieces  of  string,  some  bits  of  paper,  two  clay 
marbles,  a  scattering  of  incipient  burdock-bushes, 
and  a  large  hole  where  various  wandering  dogs  had 
scratched  a  tribute  to  cleanliness. 

Kelly  had  yanked  the  knob  viciously  and  the  bell 
jangled  a  long,  long  time  with  unexpected  penulti 
mate  drops  of  sound.  Meantime  the  eye  of  the 
master  of  the  house  savagely  swept  over  the  bare 
earth  of  his  "  front  grass-plot."  He  was  always  in 
tending  to  have  it  fixed  up  by  Mr.  Calderone,  the 
"Flower-Place"  (hyphenated)  man,  over  on  Boylston 
Street.  Everything  in  Boston  in  the  eighties  was 
capitalized  and  hyphenated,  thus  gaining  a  double 
dignity.  He  mentally  picked  up  the  string  and  the 
scraps  of  paper,  filled  the  canine  excavations,  and 
then — the  master  himself  descended  and  picked  up 
the  two  marbles.  A  reminiscent  softening  made  it 
self  apparent  about  his  mouth  and  nose.  He  dusted 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY  7 

the  marbles  off  on  his  trousers  leg  and  placed  them 
in  his  right-hand  pocket. 

"They'll  do  for  a  starter!"  he  thought.  Even 
then  his  vision  flew  to  rocking-horses,  tin  soldiers, 
stamp-books,  hoops,  bicycles — all  the  things  that  he 
had  never  had  himself.  With  a  changed  expression  he 
leaped  up  the  four  steps  and  stood  excitedly  waiting. 

A  heavy  pounding,  like  the  tread  of  an  ox  or  a 
small  river-horse,  was  shortly  audible.  Then  the 
door  rattled  and  was  pulled  violently  open  from 
inside,  and  in  the  opening,  in  a  militant  attitude, 
appeared  the  stern  presence  of  the  Kelly  cook.  Her 
skirts  were  gathered  up  in  some  mysterious  fashion, 
displaying  the  scallops  around  the  tops  of  her  worn 
kid  shoes,  and  her  sleeves  were  rolled  back  to  the 
elbows.  Her  calico  dress  was  open  at  the  neck, 
which,  gaunt  as  an  eagle's,  supported  a  strongly 
marked  and  finely  featured  face,  where  glowed 
dominant  will,  industry,  and  self-respect.  Above 
the  woman's  deep  gray  eyes  the  thin  gray  hair  was 
drawn  straight  back  into  a  grotesque  knob  at  the 
back  of  her  head.  She  was  a  typical  "Biddy,"  but 
the  kind  of  "Biddy"  that  has  been  the  mother  of 
many  a  statesman. 

"Begorra !"  she  exclaimed,  panting,  "'tis  the  mas- 
ther !  And  me  up  to  me  elbows  in  the  suds !  Where- 
ever  have  ye  bin,  wid  a  new  little  gintleman  born 
this  five  minutes  ago,  as  I  heard  meself  from  up 
stairs  tru  the  spakin'-tube?  And  the  missus  doin' 
fine,  and  whatever  do  yez  think,  sor — 'tis  the  weight 
of  it  I'm  tellin'  ye " 


8  THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Yes?"  said  Mr.  Kelly  inquiringly,  as  he  pushed 
by  her.  "What  was  the  weight,  Bridget?" 

It  was  characteristic  of  Dr.  Tucker  to  omit  the 
mention  of  trifling  details. 

"Lawd  save  us !  'Twas  eleven  pound !"  cried  the 
cook,  "and  the  missus  no  bigger  than  me  little 
sister  Annie!" 

"Eleven  pounds!"  gasped  Mr.  Kelly.  "Eleven 
pounds !"  And  then  for  the  first  time  he  smiled. 

As  the  reader  may  perhaps  have  already  divined, 
the  Kelly s  were  of  Boston,  but  not  precisely  in  it. 
Brahmin  social  refinements  and  their  reflexes,  par 
ticularly  those  so  intricate  and  complex  as  involve 
the  "Back  Bay"  in  their  tangles  of  heredity  and  re 
lationship,  are  past  unravelling.  For  Kelly  the 
elder  had  been  born  on  Mt.  Vernon  Street  in  a  house 
occupied  by  Kellys  for  many  generations,  and  num 
bered  among  his  ancestors  a  couple  of  generals  in 
the  Continental  and  Colonial  forces,  a  governor  of 
the  State,  and  a  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court. 

Yet  in  spite  of  Mr.  Kelly's  unimpeachable  family 
tree,  and  the  genealogical  peaches  and  plums  it 
bore  among  its  branches,  he  was  no  more  to  his 
fellow  citizens  of  Boston  than  if  he  had  been  born 
in  Roxbury,  and  the  son  of  a  Presbyterian.  For 
the  era  of  which  we  write  was  the  era  of  the  in 
vasion  of  Boston  by  the  Irish,  an  invasion  which, 
however  much  it  did  eventually  for  the  country  at 
large,  vastly  embarrassed  the  hidebound  patricians 
of  the  Back  Bay,  and  shook  the  temple  of  republican 
tradition  to  its  very  foundations.  Aforetime  it  had 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY  9 

been  enough  for  one  or  two  of  the  old  families  to 
announce  who  should  or  should  not  be  mayor,  al 
derman,  or  senator,  and  the  stately  dignity  of  an 
untainted  past  was  essential  to  one  who  would  con 
descend  to  elevate  public  office.  Only  those  could 
govern  or  represent  their  fellow  citizens  who  had 
been  baptized  in  the  blood  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers, 
or  of  the  worthies  of  Salem.  But  the  advent  of  the 
Irish  was  like  a  permanent  invasion  of  the  Goths, 
brutally  sweeping  before  it  every  cherished  habit 
and  custom  of  the  plebian  mind  which  had  rendered 
the  social  dictatorship  of  the  old  families  so  despotic. 
With  shocking  disregard  of  all  finer  feeling,  and  with 
impudent  independence,  these  new  citizens  pro 
ceeded  to  choose  their  own  leaders,  erect  their  own 
cross-crowned  churches  and  cathedrals,  and  elect  as 
many  as  they  could  of  the  officers  of  the  munici 
pality,  until  the  old  families  drew  their  petticoats 
and  other  apparel  about  their  thin  legs,  and  with 
horror  declared  that  the  Irish  horde,  if  unchecked, 
would  become  rulers  of  the  country,  and  make  it 
tributary  to  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

Thus,  merely  to  bear  a  Hibernian  name,  however 
distinguished,  was  just  cause  for  the  ignoring  of  its 
owner  by  the  haughty  and  resentful  patricians  of 
Beacon  Hill  and  the  West  End,  who  viewed  him 
with  suspicion,  as  possibly  implicated  in  some 
deep-laid  Fenian  conspiracy  for  the  subversion 
of  the  national  government.  To  be  Irish,  even 
in  the  tenth  degree,  was  sufficient  reason  for  being 
socially  damned  in  Boston  in  the  seventies  and 


10         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

left  shivering  in  the  chilly  atmosphere  of  the 
unrecognized. 

Moreover,  it  was  distinctly  bad  form  for  one  thus 
"born  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  street"  to  call  at 
tention  to  the  circumstance  in  any  way  whatsoever. 
To  do  so  was  an  infraction  of  the  Christian  duty, 
to  exist  uncomplainingly  in  that  state  of  life  into 
which  it  had  pleased  God  to  call  him;  and  to  ad 
mit  frankly  that  one  was  an  outcast  and  to  defy 
the  social  edict  by  open  indifference  was  an  unpar 
donable  offense  to  Boston's  sense  of  decency.  Now 
Kelly,  senior,  not  only  admitted  that  he  had  been 
"born  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  street/'  but  he 
astonished  and  terrified  his  female  relations,  includ 
ing  his  wife,  by  announcing  that  he  did  not  care. 
Not  to  care  was  felt  in  the  Back  Bay  to  be  the 
supreme  and  final  touch  of  vulgarity.  Those  who 
were  not  in  the  Blue  Book  endeavored  to  show  their 
innate  breeding  and  knowledge  of  the  world  by  ad 
mitting  the  propriety  of  the  social  verdict  against 
them.  Had  Kelly  been  a  truly  nice  man  he  would 
have  accepted  gratefully  such  crumbs  of  recognition 
as  fell  from  the  social  table. 

But  Kelly  had  done  more.  He  had,  in  flagrant 
violation  of  the  eugenics  of  Boston,  married  a  lady 
who  had  been  born  in  Chelsea.  This,  so  to  speak, 
finished  Kelly.  He  had  been  an  ambitious  young 
fellow,  occupying  a  junior  position  in  the  office  of 
a  genteel  old  lawyer,  who  lived  near  the  golden 
dome  of  the  State  House,  in  a  red  brick  mansion 
with  a  cellar  full  of  cobweb-covered  bottles  of 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         n 

antique  Madeira  and  Medford  rum.  With  the  name 
of  Kelly,  even  spelled  with  an  extra  "e,"  he  could 
not  aspire  to  a  partnership,  but  he  might  in  time 
have  inherited  the  practice,  had  he  not  fallen  in 
love  with  the  daughter  of  a  threadbare  commission 
merchant,  who  resided  in  a  socially  unmapped  wil 
derness,  and  thereby  sealed  the  doom  of  his  pro 
fessional  career  so  far  as  old  Squire  Mason  was 
concerned. 

"Dammit,  sirs!  It  shows  the  fellow  has  no 
taste!"  exploded  the  old  autocrat  over  his  dinner- 
table  on  learning  the  news;  and  from  that  moment 
Kelly's  future  became  dim.  Had  he  sought  to  in 
duce  one  of  the  cold  virgins  of  the  Back  Bay  to 
become  Mrs.  Kelly,  he  could  not  have  been  blamed, 
poor  fellow — but  to  marry  some  woman  from  Chel 
sea  !  Or  had  he  sought  marital  happiness  in  Jamaica 
Plain,  Dorchester,  or  even  South  Boston,  allowances 
might  have  been  made  for  the  vagaries  of  Eros — 
but  Chelsea!  Moreover,  he  had  red  hair,  which 
called  attention  to  these  things. 

So  Kelly,  in  spite  of  his  genuine  blue  blood,  his 
excellent  education  at  Harvard  College,  his  eminent 
ability  as  a  pleader  and  expounder  of  common  law, 
was  regarded  by  his  fellows  as  more  or  less  of  a 
failure,  or  at  least  a  person  of  no  particular  im 
portance  one  way  or  another,  and  having  married 
the  lady  of  his  heart  he  hung  out  a  shingle  for  him 
self  and  plodded  along  the  legal  path  alone.  As 
time  went  on,  he  attracted  a  few  clients,  also  socially 
unknown,  and  gradually  built  up  a  practice  which 


12         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

enabled  him  to  lease  the  brick  house  on  Newbury 
Street,  in  which  the  momentous  event  heretofore 
recorded  had  just  occurred.  He  was  a  man  of 
common  sense  and  saw  clearly  that  he  was  the 
victim  of  a  narrowness  of  social  vision  in  others,  but 
he  loved  his  native  city,  and  would  have  languished 
elsewhere.  He  was  too  proud  to  belong  to  any  but 
the  best  clubs,  and  so  belonged  to  none;  and  he 
nursed  his  grudge  to  this  extent,  that  not  being  in 
vited  to  the  best  houses  he  did  not  care  to  go  any 
where.  It  was  hardly  to  be  wondered  at  that  he 
felt  no  enthusiasm  about  introducing  another  Kelly 
to  the  unreceptive  society  in  which  he  lived.  This 
explains  his  lack  of  exhilaration  on  receiving  the 
doctor's  announcement,  and  his  first  feeling  of  sub 
dued  resentment  toward  that  worthy  man.  Some 
times  he  would  have  liked  to  explode  a  bomb  in  the 
middle  of  the  Boston  Public  Garden  and  rudely 
shock  the  smug  self-satisfaction  of  his  fellow  citizens. 
Had  he  lived  he  might  have  done  so.  But  he  did 
not  survive  to  make  himself  thus  vulgarly  conspicu 
ous.  Two  years  after  Tom's  birth  he  caught  a  chill 
while  walking  home  in  the  March  rain  across  the 
"Common,"  and  in  less  than  a  week  expired  of 
double  pneumonia.  A  doctor  of  irreproachable  so 
cial  antecedents  officiated  at  his  last  moments. 


II 

"IF  he  isn't  better  by  five  o'clock  I'm  going  to 
send  for  Aunt  Eliza,"  said  his  mother,  laying  Tom, 
aged  three,  back  in  his  crib,  where  he  continued  to 
wriggle  and  squirm  in  defiance  of  all  propriety. 

"  That'll  be  good,  mum,"  agreed  Maggie,  the 
nurse  who  had  attended  Tom  since  his  birth  and 
knew  every  symptom  of  infantile  ailments.  "She'll 
be  after  bringin'  some  more  seeds,  I'm  thinkin'." 

The  seeds  referred  to  were  pumpkin-seeds,  an 
infallible  remedy  in  Aunt  Eliza's  opinion  for  certain 
minor  disorders,  and  were  carefully  preserved  by 
her  in  a  paper  bag  for  her  periodical  visits.  These 
and  a  liberal  use  of  olive  oil  were  all,  his  mother 
fondly  believed,  that  preserved  Tom  from  follow 
ing  his  father  promptly  into  the  next  world. 

Aunt  Eliza  lived  in  South  Boston — a  day's 
journey,  as  Tom  later  discovered,  by  transferring 
horse-cars — and  when  she  came  over  she  usually 
spent  the  night.  Being  herself  an  Osgood,  she  had 
not  regarded  favorably  her  niece's  alliance  with  a 
Kelly,  but  since  the  offender's  death  she  had  re 
sumed  diplomatic  relations.  She  was  Tom's  earli 
est  and  most  vivid  impression — by  no  means  a  cheer 
ful  one — and  for  many  years  his  ideas  of  womankind 
were  tainted  by  the  recollection  of  Aunt  Eliza's 

13 


14         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

acrimonious  visage  in  its  ruffled  cap,  while,  as  a  child, 
he  assumed  as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  normal 
subjects  of  conversation  between  adult  human 
beings  were  sickness,  bereavement,  and  the  proper 
conduct  of  funeral  ceremonies.  She  was  a  vigorous, 
independent  old  party  of  seventy-six  years,  with  a 
definiteness  of  opinion  and  a  dominant  character 
that  at  times  entirely  effaced  her  niece  Mrs.  Kelly, 
a  weak,  retiring  lady  who  had  never  quite  regained 
her  self-possession  after  " marrying  onto  the  Back 
Bay,"  and  who,  having  no  confidence  in  herself, 
leaned  heavily  on  her  strong-minded  relative. 

"I  think  you  can  light  the  gas  now,  Maggie," 
said  Mrs.  Kelly.  "How  does  he  seem  to  you?" 

"Oh,  sure,  he's  better.  He  ain't  near  so  rest 
less,"  reassured  Maggie,  as  she  fumbled  for  a  sul 
phur  match  in  the  china  pig  on  the  mantelpiece. 
The  gas  ignited  with  a  pop,  and  the  room,  which 
had  been  filled  with  shadows,  became  dimly  illu 
minated. 

It  was  the  room  in  which  Tom  had  been  born, 
and  everything  in  it  gave  evidence  of  the  modest 
circumstances  of  his  parents.  The  bed  and  bureau 
were  of  massive  walnut — a  wedding  present,  but 
the  cheap  Brussels  carpet  was  threadbare  and  the 
heavily  framed  pictures  were  lithographs  of  dying 
stags  or  of  Biblical  ladies  going  to  the  well  or  re 
turning  from  harvest.  Christmas  cards,  cheap 
calendars,  and  "ornaments"  worked  in  worsted 
adorned  the  tops  of  shelves,  the  mirrors,  or  dangled 
from  the  gas-jets.  An  illuminated  worsted  scroll 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY         15 

invited  the  reader  to  "Look  unto  me  and  be  ye 
saved."  One  door  led  to  the  narrow  main  hall 
way  and  another  to  a  dark  and  stuffy  "dressing- 
room,"  which  in  turn  communicated  with  a  dank 
bathroom  boasting  a  tin  tub  and  a  "set  bowl." 

Across  the  street  could  be  seen  a  few  palely 
glowing  windows,  and  just  then,  a  man  with  a 
brisk  walk,  and  carrying  a  pole  with  a  bulgy  end, 
stopped  at  the  lamp-post  opposite,  thrust  the  pole 
upward,  fumbled  with  it  mysteriously,  and  hast 
ened  off  again,  leaving  the  lamp  behind  him  lighted. 

"I've  always  wondered  how  he  does  that!" 
sighed  Mrs.  Kelly,  smoothing  back  her  hair  and 
tucking  away  the  loose  wisps  in  a  manner  somehow 
suggesting  that  as  Providence  had  not  seen  fit  to 
impart  to  her  that  priceless  knowledge  it  was  per 
haps  a  little  wrong  to  speculate  about  the  matter. 
Yet  she  had  expressed  exactly  the  same  idea  in  just 
those  words  every  night  for  the  thirteen  years  of 
her  married  life  while  waiting  for  her  husband  to 
come  home  from  the  office.  For  she  had  been  mar 
ried  thirteen  years  before  Tom  had  arrived.  And 
now  that  her  husband  was  dead  and  Tom  was  three 
years  old,  she  still  continued  to  wonder  about  the 
gas-man. 

"I  wish  I'd  sent  for  the  doctor,"  she  added  anx 
iously,  while  she  pulled  down  the  window-curtains. 
As  Maggie  Me  Gee  knew  that  she  didn't  wish  any 
thing  of  the  sort,  but  that  the  remark  was  simply 
by  way  of  making  conversation,  she  did  not  vouch 
safe  an  answer. 


1 6         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Most  of  Mrs.  Kelly's  remarks  were  of  the  same 
general  nature — assertions  of  states  of  mind  thrown 
out  at  random  on  the  merest  chance  of  entangling 
some  sort  of  reply,  a  continual  procession  of  mild 
remonstrances  to  the  effect  that  whatever  had  been 
done  should  have  been  done  differently,  negative 
reflections  upon  the  weather  and  the  general  self- 
conduct  of  nature. 

She  was  about  to  hazard  the  thought  that  it  was 
long  past  time  for  the  newspaper  to  come,  when  a 
faint  jangle  from  the  lower  regions  caused  both 
women  to  start  with  surprise. 

"Well,  I  never!  Who  can  that  be!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Kelly. 

"Who'd  ever  be  comin'  this  hour ! "  echoed  Maggie. 

The  pounding  of  Bridget's  feet  upon  the  back 
stairs  smothered  the  dying  tinkles  of  the  bell,  the 
chain  rattled  on  the  front  door,  and  a  medley  of 
cries  and  ejaculations  arose  from  below. 

"I  do  believe  it's  Aunt  Eliza!"  gasped  Mrs. 
Kelly.  "She's  come  to  spend  the  night!  Run  an' 
see  if  the  bed  in  the  spare  room  is  made  up." 

Maggie  hastily  fled  through  the  hall  to  the  rear, 
while  her  mistress  looked  over  the  stairs. 

"What  is  it,  Bridget?"  she  called,  for  although  she 
knew  perfectly  well  what  it  was,  she  desired  to 
make  social  capital  of  her  subsequent  astonishment. 

"It's  me,  Caroline,"  came  up  from  below  in  the 
raucous  tones  of  Miss  Osgood.  "Such  a  time's  I've 
had!" 

"Gracious!"  shouted  Mrs.  Kelly  in  accents  of 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         17 

hysteria.  "What  an  hour!  I  should  have  thought 
you  would  have  started  earlier." 

Miss  Osgood  paused  breathless  on  the  landing  to 
allow  the  exchange  of  further  amenities. 

"Look  out  for  that  pie-shaped  stair,"  called  down 
her  niece  anxiously.  "You  know  Miss  Trollop 
slipped  on  it  and  rolled  all  the  way  down — and  she 
three  hundred  pounds !" 

Mrs.  Kelly  ignored  the  fact  that  she  had  com 
municated  this  same  warning  to  Aunt  Eliza  every 
time  she  had  ascended  that  flight  of  stairs  for  the 
last  sixteen  years. 

Her  aunt  made  no  reply,  and  resumed  her  climb. 

"Here,"  added  Mrs.  Kelly.  "Wait  while  I 
light  the  hall  gas!" 

She  rushed  frantically  back  to  the  front  room, 
secured  a  match  and  made  a  great  display  of  try 
ing  to  light  up. 

"Don't  light  it!"  ordered  Aunt  Eliza.  "We 
ain't  goin'  to  set  in  the  hall,  be  we?" 

Mrs.  Kelly  with  seeming  regret  blew  out  the  match. 
She  had  had  no  real  intention  of  lighting  the  hall 
gas.  From  motives  of  economy  the  halls  were  not 
lighted  in  the  Kelly  mansion — and  Aunt  Eliza 
knew  it. 

"  WeU— "  she  admitted,  "I  don't  s'pose  we  are" 

Then  she  embraced  her  aunt  vigorously  and  gave 
her  a  loud  smack  on  the  left  cheek.  Miss  Osgood 
emitted  a  kind  of  cluck  and  marched  on  toward  the 
front  room. 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  taken 


1 8         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

cold  being  out  so  late,"  said  Tom's  mother,  follow 
ing  her. 

"Such  a  time's  I  had  gettin'  here!"  repeated 
Miss  Osgood,  with  more  than  her  usual  importance. 
"I  had  to  wait  nearly  forty  minutes  at  the  bridge !" 

"Dear  me!"  replied  her  niece.  "Let  me  take 
your  shawl !  I  was  just  goin'  to  send  for  you." 

Miss  Osgood  looked  at  her  with  feigned  awe. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  in  a  whisper.  "Some- 
thin'  told  me !  I  just  knew  it ! " 

She  surrendered  her  shawl,  disclosing  a  large, 
half-filled  paper  bag  beneath. 

"What's  that?"  inquired  Mrs.  Kelly  politely. 

"Punkin-seed,"  announced  Aunt  Eliza  —  "for 
Tom!" 


Ill 


TOM'S  earliest  recollections  were  of  lying  in  his 
mother's  arms  and  seeing  the  crescent  moon  across 
the  housetops.  But  he  did  not  remember  his  mother 
ever  singing  to  him.  Mrs.  Kelly,  poor  lady,  never 
sang  anything — except  hymns  in  a  thin  quaver. 
She  took  life  far  too  seriously  for  that.  To  her 
Tom  was  a  responsibility  that  left  no  vitality  for 
playfulness  or  even  the  purr  of  mere  comfort.  She 
had  been  thirty  when  she  married,  she  was  forty- 
three  when  Tom  was  born,  and  she  was  now  nearly 
fifty.  Her  girlhood  had  been  a  drab  affair  of  a 
shabby  genteel  sort  from  which  active  sports  had 
been  excluded  as  vulgar.  Any  natural  mirth  she 
might  have  had  as  a  child  had  long  since  succumbed 
to  the  apprehensions  of  her  New  England  con 
science.  She  did  not  really  believe  in  a  personal 
devil  with  a  red  tail,  but  she  pretended  to  Tom  that 
she  did  and  felt  herself  in  danger  of  hell  fire  be 
cause  she  did  not.  Dear,  well-meaning  lady !  And 
though  she  loved  Tom  with  a  passionate  devotion 
— was  he  not  all  she  had  on  earth  ? — yet  the  restraint 
of  her  Puritan  upbringing  and  the  belief  that  life 
was  so  serious  a  matter  deprived  her  of  the  ability 
to  give  any  natural  expression  to  her  feelings  and 
forced  her  to  mask  her  real  affection  under  a 
demeanor  of  self-conscious  severity. 

19 


20         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

By  day  he  lay  in  her  lap  in  the  same  place,  and 
instead  of  the  moon,  watched  the  little  globules  of 
light,  reflected  from  the  water  standing  on  the  tin 
roof  of  the  bay  window,  dance  on  the  ceiling. 
They  danced  and  danced  so  jollily  that  he  did  not 
miss  his  mother's  singing,  and  he  would  laugh  with 
delight,  and  then  his  glance  would  stray  to  where  a 
steel-engraved  Madonna  with  great  soulful  eyes 
gazed  down  upon  another  baby,  just  like  him,  who 
lay  in  her  arms — and  beyond  to  where  the  red 
worsted  motto  urged  him  to  "Look  unto  me  and 
be  ye  saved" — from  what? 

These  and  the  smell  of  things  being  boiled  in  an 
alcohol-lamp  were  what  he  remembered  most  in 
after-years.  Gradually,  however,  he  took  notice 
of  others — Aunt  Eliza  with  her  perennial  bag  of 
pumpkin-seeds,  Fanny  Trollop  the  dropsical  lady 
who  had  made  the  pie-shaped  stair  famous  by 
slipping  on  it,  and  Sarah  the  "second"  girl.  It 
never  occurred  to  Tom  in  later  years  to  wonder 
who  the  "first"  girl  was  or  whether  there  had  ever 
been  any.  Certainly  there  had  been  none  during 
his  own  brief  existence. 

Besides  Aunt  Eliza  there  were  other  aunts  and 
female  cousins  who  lived  vaguely  somewhere  in  the 
suburbs  and  who  "came  in  on  the  cars"  to  spend 
the  day  and  assist  in  the  upbringing  of  Tom,  and 
there  were  also  a  few  decrepit  and  nondescript  un 
related  spinsters  who  were  always  referred  to  as 
"Lizzie"  this  or  "Flossie"  that.  Tom  never  knew 
who  they  were  or  where  they  came  from.  So  far 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         21 

as  he  could  ascertain  there  were  no  husbands  per 
taining  to  any  of  the  aunts  and  cousins.  They  were 
very  much  alike,  all  of  them — their  aspect  betray 
ing  an  underlying  resentment  against  society  at 
large  and  an  aggressive  distrust  of  man;  and  they 
seemed  to  hold  Caroline,  Tom's  mother,  in  a  sort  of 
contemptuous  awe.  Likewise  they  were  very  curi 
ous  about  Tom,  and  took  part  assiduously  and  en 
thusiastically  at  his  bath  and  various  rehabilitations. 
In  spite  of  the  officious  attentions  of  his  mother's 
female  relatives  and  her  own  well  meaning,  but 
highly  unintelligent,  efforts  to  safeguard  him  from 
the  slightest  exposure  to  the  elements,  Tom  man 
aged  not  only  to  survive,  but  also  in  what  seemed  a 
surprisingly  short  time  to  perform  the  miracle  of 
self-locomotion.  He  had  been  oiled,  dosed,  phys 
icked,  bandaged,  and  bundled  up  at  the  slightest 
provocation,  but,  having  inherited  a  robust  con 
stitution  from  the  Kelly  side  of  the  family,  managed 
somehow  to  achieve  boyhood  none  the  worse  for  the 
zealous  care  bestowed  upon  him  save  for  a  slight 
oversensitiveness  to  drafts.  Saturday  nights  he 
was  boiled  in  the  bathtub  and  huddled  off  to  bed, 
and  if  he  sneezed  he  was  wrapped  in  a  blanket  and 
rocked  in  front  of  the  "  register,"  as  the  opening  of 
the  hot-air  furnace  in  his  mother's  room  was  called. 
These  "registers"  were  a  mystery  and  an  unending 
source  of  amusement  to  Tom,  for  you  could  halloo 
down  through  their  tunnels  to  the  nether  regions, 
or  innocently  drop  into  them  unconsidered  and 
never-to-be-recovered  trifles  belonging  to  the  fe- 


22         THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

male  wardrobe.  When  Eben,  the  negro  choreman, 
had  started  a  good  fire  the  hot  air  would  come  out 
in  a  grand  blast  and  you  could  hold  up  your  hand 
kerchief  and  imagine  you  were  a  ship  at  sea  under 
full  sail.  And  down  in  the  front  hall,  where  the 
register  was  flush  in  the  floor  and  not  in  the  wall, 
you  could  lay  your  silk  muffler  on  it  carefully  and 
away  it  would  go  toward  the  ceiling,  carried  up  on 
the  column  of  air  until  it  slid  off  sideways  and  fell 
in  a  crinkled  heap  on  the  carpet. 

Every  year,  however,  the  placid  routine  of  Tom's 
simple  life  was  interrupted  by  the  inevitable  visit 
at  the  Newbury  Street  house  of  Uncle  Ezra  and  Aunt 
Minerva  Jenkins  from  Bridgeport,  who  came  each 
spring,  bringing  a  carpetbag  worked  in  green  worsted 
with  a  stag's  head  in  yellow.  Uncle  Ezra  was  a 
very  vivid  memory  indeed,  for  he  had  a  face  like  a 
moose  with  a  long  thin  nose  overhanging  his  chin  in 
extensions  or  eaves.  Mrs.  Kelly  had  the  highest 
reverencQ  for  him,  and  also  for  his  wife  who  was 
reputed  to  be  the  best  housekeeper  in  Bridgeport,  but 
Tom  dreaded  these  visitations  by  reason  of  the  ad 
ditional  gloom  that  pervaded  the  house  while  the 
worthies  were  there.  During  these  periods  Tom's 
mother  always  wore  her  Sunday  clothes,  even  at 
breakfast,  and  asked  Uncle  Ezra  to  say  grace,  and 
after  the  meal  was  over  they  would  all  adjourn  to 
the  library  and  have  family  prayers,  with  Sarah 
the  second  girl,  and  Bridget  the  cook,  lurking  in  a 
religiously  hostile  yet  malevolently  respectful  man 
ner  outside  in  the  hall. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         23 

These  family  prayers  were  unabridged  and  com 
plete  in  all  respects,  covering  every  department  of 
human  activity  in  this  and  foreign  lands.  "And 
we  would  especially  ask  thy  attention,  Oh  Lord, 
to  the  benighted  heathen  of  Tasmania  and  beseech 
thee  to  give  them  of  thy  grace!"  and  so  on,  or  at 
least  so  it  seemed  to  Tom,  through  Somaliland, 
Patagonia,  and  the  whole  geography.  Uncle  Ezra, 
who  had  a  great  reputation  in  Bridgeport  as  an 
exhorter,  fascinated  Tom  to  such  an  extent  that  he 
almost  did  not  mind  kneeling  down  so  long  on  the 
hard  floor,  for  he  could  see  Uncle  Ezra  after  he  had 
exhausted  the  air  in  his  lungs  on  the  natives  of  South 
Australia,  take  a  long,  long  breath,  drawing  in  his 
flapper-like  nostrils  until  he  was  quite  distended, 
and  begin  again  on  the  inhabitants  of  western 
Africa.  He  knew  Uncle  Ezra  was  a  very  holy  man — 
for  he  never  smiled. 

Aunt  Minerva  was  a  pantomimic  echo  of  her  hus 
band,  and  both  acted  as  if  they  thought  Tom  did 
very  wrong  to  be  alive,  and  as  if  they  were  sure  God 
was  very  angry  with  him.  During  this  annual 
affliction  Tom's  mother  assumed  a  regretful,  pained 
manner  toward  him,  as  if  to  say  that  he  would  know 
some  day  what  a  terribly  sad  business  this  being  "a 
child  of  God"  was  and  be  sorry  for  not  realizing  it 
sooner.  They  all  murdered  the  joy  of  life  and 
seemed  forever  doomed  to  participate  in  its  attendant 
obsequies.  Tom  was  convinced  somehow  that  he 
was  a  miserable  sinner  and  was  ready  to  do  all  that 
he  could  to  rectify  the  matter,  but  the  manner  of 


24         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

his  elders  satisfied  him  that,  do  what  he  could,  he 
would  remain  what  he  was — a  worm. 

It  is  impossible  to  gauge  the  far-reaching  effect 
upon  character  of  seemingly  inconsequential  in 
fluences.  Tom's  whole  attitude  toward  religion 
in  after-life  was  colored  strongly  by  his  recollections 
of  Uncle  Ezra  and  his  wife,  just  as  his  attitude  toward 
the  world  at  large  was  quite  naturally  moulded  by 
that  of  his  mother.  And  one  of  his  first  reactions 
to  this  gloomy  and  depressing  view  of  the  disposition 
of  Providence  toward  the  inhabitants  of  the  globe 
was  to  welcome  eagerly  the  suggestion  of  a  youthful 
agnostic  that  there  was  no  reason  to  believe  in  any 
God  at  all  or  for  attempting  to  carry  out  his  mythical 
commandments.  So  successful  were  the  Jenkinses 
in  impressing  Tom  with  his  guilt  of  some  unde 
fined  offense  against  the  Almighty  that  not  before 
his  freshman  year  in  college  did  he  cease  to  have  an 
instinctive  fear  of  an  imminent  retribution  from  on 
high.  This  was  accentuated  by  the  frequent  repeti 
tion  of  such  phrases  as  "born  in  sin"  and  "children 
of  wrath."  He  was  informed  that  the  "Old  Adam" 
was  in  him  somewhere.  This  made  him  very  uneasy 
and  most  uncomfortable.  He  expected  Adam  to 
come  popping  out  of  him  at  almost  any  minute, 
just  as  Jonah  had  emerged  from  the  whale.  It 
was  an  unpleasant  anticipation.  And  the  idea  that 
he  would  not  only  be  visited  with  swift  vengeance  for 
any  transgressions  of  his  own  in  the  future,  but  also, 
for  some  unexplained  reason,  for  those  of  others  in 
the  dim  past  for  which  he  could  not  in  any  way  con- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         25 

ceive  himself  as  responsible,  made  him  secretly 
resentful.  It  was  all  most  mysterious,  but  when  he 
sought  enlightenment  from  his  mother  and  Aunt 
Eliza,  the  former  only  whispered,  "Hush !"  and  held 
up  a  warning  finger,  while  the  latter  remarked  didac 
tically:  "Just  hear  the  child — little  boys  mustn't 
ask  about  such  things !" 

"But  why  have  I  got  to  be  saved?"  wailed 
Tom.  "I'd  rather  not  be!  Please  don't  let  me 
be  saved!" 

Horrified,  his  mother  pushed  him  from  the  room 
with  instructions  to  go  and  play  in  the  back  yard, 
only  not  under  any  circumstances  to  ask  questions 
of  Bridget,  who  in  spite  of  being  a  good  woman  was 
a  follower  of  the  Pope  of  Rome.  Even  if  Bridget 
herself  felt  kindly  toward  him,  said  his  mother,  she 
would  be  powerless  to  save  him  from  the  rage  of 
the  Roman  Catholics  if  once  they  were  aroused 
against  him.  They  were  always  "massacring" 
people.  There  was  the  "Massacre  of  St.  Bartho 
lomew"  for  example!  No,  Tom  must  never  in  the 
remotest  way  touch  upon  religion  in  talking  with 
Bridget ! 

About  Jews  his  mother  seemed,  curiously  enough, 
to  feel  differently.  In  fact  her  attitude  was  almost 
friendly.  Their  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour  she 
apparently  regarded  as  an  error  of  judgment,  to  be 
overlooked  under  all  the  circumstances.  The  Bible 
was  full  of  Jews — nothing  but  Jews  in  fact.  Ap 
parently  you  could  not  hate  Jews  without  in  a  mea 
sure  reflecting  on  the  upper  stratum  of  Scriptural 


28        THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

ancient  edifice,  and  the  more  fashionable  congre 
gations  had  in  consequence  moved  on  to  less  crowded 
sections  of  the  Back  Bay.  It  was  partly  for  this 
reason  that  Mrs.  Kelly  continued  to  go  there.  At 
St.  Agnes's  she  had  the  feeling  that  she  was  really  as 
good  as  anybody. 

The  rector,  an  austere  and  unapproachable  per 
son,  who  had  once  declined  the  office  of  bishop 
coadjutor  in  a  Western  State,  was  considered  by  the 
faithful  of  his  congregation  to  be  a  man  of  remarkable 
qualities,  spiritual  and  intellectual.  He  was  uni 
formly  spoken  of  as  having  made  "great  sacri 
fices"  to  stay  at  St.  Agnes's,  and  he  himself  was 
guilty  of  no  oversight  in  doing  what  he  could  to 
strengthen  that  impression.  Everything  about  St. 
Agnes's  was  in  keeping  with  the  rector.  It  was,  if 
threadbare,  eminently  respectable,  with  a  flavor  of 
ecclesiastical  aristocracy  and  a  perceptible  odor 
of  sanctity.  This  odor,  as  Tom  discovered  early, 
emanated  from  the  decaying  cloth  of  the  footstools 
and  cushions  of  the  pews,  which  in  some  places  had 
been  entirely  worn  away,  exposing  the  aged  stuffing 
beneath.  Its  quality  was  heightened  to  a  slight 
but  noticeable  degree  by  a  suggestion  of  ancient 
prayer  and  hymn  books,  the  covers  of  which  were 
going  through  a  natural  process  of  disintegration.  A 
damp  umbrella  placed  in  juxtaposition  with  a 
crumbling  piece  of  antique  leather  was  bound  to  have 
its  effect.  The  first  thing  a  visitor  to  St.  Agnes's 
noticed  was  a  sort  of  faint  acrid  green  smell,  and 
Tom  never  heard  the  word  "church"  without 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         29 

coincidently  recalling  this  mysterious  and  charac 
teristic  odor.  A  "church"  was  to  him  a  place 
that  "smelled  like  St.  Agnes's." 

The  Kelly  pew  was  in  the  rear,  at  the  very  be 
ginning  of  the  main  aisle,  and  in  consequence,  its 
sides  and  back  were  higher  than  the  others.  The 
elder  Kelly  had  chosen  it  because  of  its  low  rent,  and 
his  widow  had  retained  it.  It  was  her  only  ex 
travagance,  for  while  it  could  hold  six  persons  there 
were  only  two  left  to  sit  in  it,  and  it  gave  her  an  in 
nocent  satisfaction,  and  filled  her  with  a  sense  of 
modest  proprietorship,  to  be  able  to  beckon  to  the 
usher  and  hold  up  four  ringers,  indicating  thereby 
that  she  could,  if  necessary,  accommodate  four 
strangers  within  her  gates.  The  sides  of  the  pew, 
being  fully  two  feet  higher  than  Tom's  head,  it  was 
quite  impossible  for  him  either  to  see  or  hear  any 
thing  unless  he  was  allowed  to  stand  upright  upon 
the  seat,  but  Mrs.  Kelly  did  not  regard  it  as  proper 
for  him  to  do  this  except  during  the  hymns,  and  in 
consequence  he  was  obliged  to  occupy  himself  as 
best  he  could  during  the  anthem  and  sermon,  when 
he  usually  crawled  under  the  seat  or  drew  pictures 
inside  the  covers  of  the  older  books. 

Obviously  some  other  small  boy  had  once  found 
the  worship  of  the  Almighty  equally  tedious,  for 
there  was  an  English  hymnal,  lying  around,  bear 
ing  date  1849,  with  the  name  "Warren  Brad- 
shaw"  scrawled  across  the  fly-leaf  accompanied 
by  what  Tom  considered  a  masterpiece  of  drawing, 
consisting  of  the  profile  of  a  man  in  whiskers  and  a 


26         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Society.  This  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
Tom's  preference  for  not  being  saved.  Of  course 
the  Jews  wouldn't  be  saved,  but  the  Jews  neverthe 
less  were  evidently  rather  superior.  Whereas  Uncle 
Ezra  and  Aunt  Minerva — he  couldn't  imagine  en 
joying  eternity  in  their  companionship,  even  if  they 
were  equipped  with  golden  harps  and  clad  in  shining 
raiment ! 

Tom,  duly  warned,  discussed  with  Bridget,  there 
fore,  only  "fay-ries"  and  the  value  of  old  clothes 
and  bottles.  Yet  Bridget  did  not  suffer  Tom  to  fall 
under  the  false  lure  of  gold.  Rather,  whenever  he 
came  into  the  kitchen  she  would  impress  upon  him 
the  value  of  wisdom. 

"Sure,  'tis  better  to  be  a  great  scholar  like  Father 
Leary  than  a  millyunaire,"  she  would  say,  standing 
arms  akimbo  on  her  broad,  powerful  hips.  "  Many's 
the  time  I  wisht  I'd  had  an  eddication.  Learn 
your  books,  Tom !  Take  an  old  woman's  word  for 
it.  Yer  father  knew  his  books,  even  if  I  can't  say 
as  much  for  yer  mither.  And  '  crumbs  make  ye 
wise'!" 

Forthwith  she  would  cross  to  the  wall  under  the 
clock  and  remove  from  its  nail  a  blue  tin  match-box, 
in  which  she  preserved  all  the  crumbs  which  were 
the  by-products  of  her  daily  tasks.  They  were  dry, 
crunchy,  and  delicious — white,  graham,  and  brown; 
and  Tom  would  dump  them  all  out  in  a  big  pile  on 
the  pastry-board  and  lap  them  up  like  a  dog,  while 
Bridget  would  stand  by  admiringly.  Tom  some 
times  wondered  afterward  if  Bridget  really  thought 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         27 

the  bread  crumbs  thus  devoured  would  increase  his 
mental  capacities.  She  was  indeed  a  wise  old 
woman,  albeit  a  superstitious  one,  yet  it  is  highly 
probable  that  she  did  vaguely  believe  in  some  occult 
power  in  the  crumbs  which  she  so  zealously  treasured 
to  make  Tom  wise.  Do  not  many  of  us  accept  the 
well-known  thesis  that  fish  is  good  for  the  brain? 
And,  if  so,  why  not  crumbs  ?  However  that  may  be, 
Tom  never  forgot  her  admonition,  and  when  he 
ceased  to  rely  upon  the  efficacy  of  bread  crumbs 
per  se  as  an  intellectual  stimulus,  he  realized  the 
true  significance  of  Bridget's  doctrine  and  profited 
by  it.  Thus  the  old  cook  played  her  part,  just  as 
did  Uncle  Ezra  and  Aunt  Minerva,  in  shaping 
Tom's  ultimate  character. 

But  Tom's  religious  experiences  were  not  limited 
to  Uncle  Ezra's  visits.  Ever  since  the  Kellys  had, 
in  the  early  years  of  their  married  life,  moved  to 
Newbury  Street,  they  had  rented  a  pew  in  the  old 
stone  church  on  Tremont  Street,  a  few  minutes' 
walk  away,  just  across  the  Public  Garden  and  the 
Common.  On  Sunday  mornings  in  early  spring, 
and  even  on  clear  days  in  winter  after  a  light  fall 
of  snow,  these  walks  were  very  pleasant  and  left 
one  with  a  sense  of  muscular  relaxation  when  com 
fortably  settled  among  the  red  cushions  of  the 
high-backed,  mahogany-trimmed  pews. 

The  church  was  a  hundred  years  old,  dark  and 
dank  in  bad  weather,  and  the  regular  attendants 
few  and  shifting,  owing  to  the  fact  that  stores  and 
office-buildings  had  completely  enveloped  the  low, 


30         THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

tall  hat.  Sunday  after  Sunday  he  sat  and  mar 
velled  at  Warren  Bradshaw's  artistic  ability,  wonder 
ing  if  he  should  ever  be  able  to  draw  a  human  be 
ing  with  such  a  hat  and  whiskers.  During  hymns 
Tom  stood  on  the  seat  and  watched  the  heads  of 
the  congregation;  the  rest  of  the  time  he  lay  on 
his  back  or  sat  gazing  up  at  the  comparatively  lim 
ited  section  of  water-stained  ceiling  exposed  to  his 
view. 

During  a  particularly  long  prayer  on  a  certain  Sun 
day  in  his  seventh  year  Tom's  small  forehead  slipped 
from  the  hymn-book  upon  which  it  was  reposing  and 
his  front  teeth  came  suddenly  into  conflict  with  the 
rack  below,  with  the  result  that  a  considerable 
amount  of  ancient  varnish  forced  its  way  into  his 
mouth.  He  found  somewhat  to  his  astonishment 
that  the  antique  glue  and  pulverized  wood  had  a 
by  no  means  unpleasant  taste.  In  the  joy  of  this 
discovery  he  straightway  began  gnawing  around 
the  pew  in  divers  places  like  a  small  and  vigorous 
rodent. 

Unfortunately  this  was  possible  only  during  the 
prayers  when  he  had  an  excuse  for  lowering  his 
head,  until,  looking  for  other  worlds  to  gnaw,  his 
eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  the  mahogany  rail  run 
ning  around  the  top  of  the  pew.  At  that  moment 
his  mother  happened  to  be  absorbed  in  a  particularly 
eloquent  passage  which  the  rector  was  reading  from 
St.  Chrysostom,  so  that  Tom  was  enabled,  without 
attracting  her  attention,  to  crawl  into  the  farther 
corner  of  the  pew,  draw  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         31 

and  affix  his  teeth  unnoticed  in  the  rail.  It  tasted 
even  better  than  the  rack  below.  Soon  he  had 
quietly  gnawed  two  small  grooves.  Oh  rapture! 
Stealthily  he  placed  his  hands  above  his  head  and 
lifted  himself  up  until  he  could  drive  the  two  small 
dog's  teeth  in  his  upper  jaw  into  the  soft  wood. 
He  could  feel  them  sink  deeply  in,  almost  as  if  it 
were  a  cheese !  Delighted,  he  let  go  with  his  hands 
and  hung  swinging  there  in  ecstasy,  unsupported 
save  by  his  teeth. 

Meantime  the  rector  continued  to  read  from  St. 
Chrysostom,  while  Tom  surveyed  the  world  beneath 
him  much  as  an  Alpine  climber  clinging  to  a  jutting 
rock  gazes  into  the  valleys  below.  Suddenly  he 
became  conscious  of  a  small  brown  face  within  an 
inch  or  two  of  his  own — a  girl's !  She,  too,  had  ap 
parently  discovered  the  art  of  hanging  by  one's 
teeth.  The  two  children  stared  at  each  other  sol 
emnly. 

"  So — you — goth — pew — teeth  too ! "  mumbled, 
or  rather  sputtered,  Tom. 

"Yeth — pew  teeth!"  mouthed  his  new  friend. 

He  felt  a  dawning  respect  for  this  equally  adven 
turous  spirit.  Using  his  hands  again,  he  lifted  his 
chin  entirely  over  the  top  of  the  rail,  thus  enabling 
his  eyes  to  see  into  the  pew  from  which  she  had 
thus  mysteriously  emerged. 

At  the  other  end  sat  a  tall,  loose-jointed  man  in  a 
black  frock  coat.  His  face  was  narrow,  with  pro 
truding  chin  and  a  long  nose,  not  unlike  an  elongated 
Dante,  but  albeit  the  lips  were  thin,  the  large  mouth 


32         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

was  shrewd  and  kindly,  and  the  eyes  were  puckered 
in  friendly  wrinkles.  To  Tom's  great  comfort  he 
saw  that  the  man  was  smiling  at  him. 

"  Good  morning ! "  remarked  this  new  acquaintance 
in  a  confidential  whisper.  "How  do  you  do?" 

At  that  moment  Tom's  chin  was  loosened  by  a 
tug  on  his  coat  and  he  was  dragged  suddenly  down 
from  behind,  striking  his  nose  violently  against  the 
rail.  The  little  girl  simultaneously  disappeared. 

"I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  climb 
around  like  that!"  gasped  Mrs.  Kelly  in  horror,  a 
note  of  harshness  manifesting  itself  in  her  habitually 
subdued  voice.  "S'pose  Mrs.  Petersilea  had  seen 
you?  It's  wicked  to  act  like  that  in  church,  with 
God  looking  right  at  you !  I've  a  good  mind  to 
tell  the  rector " 

Just  then  a  bright  red  drop  suddenly  descended 
from  the  end  of  Tom's  nose  upon  the  open  prayer- 
book  in  his  mother's  hand. 

"Dear  me!"  she  cried  in  sudden  terror,  "I  hope 
you  haven't  gone  and  killed  yourself !" 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  service  upon  the  stone 
steps  of  the  church  the  two  children  stared  at  each 
other  in  an  embarrassed  admiration.  Tom  had 
never  seen  such  a  delightful  person  before.  She 
was  small  and  wiry,  with  blue-black  hair  and  eyes 
like  an  Indian.  Her  brown  little  face  was  splashed 
with  a  red  suggestive  of  a  riotous  autumn  leaf,  and 
when  she  smiled  an  elfin  gleam  danced  all  around  it 
and  flickered,  laughing,  in  her  eyes. 

From  time  to  time  he  saw  her  on  scattered  Sun- 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY         33 

days,  but  beyond  the  fact  that  her  name  was  Evelyn 
he  learned  nothing  further  about  her.  Finally 
she  ceased  to  come  and  he  saw  her  no  more. 

Perhaps  the  influence  that  most  affected  Tom  in 
these  early  years  was  his  mother's  obvious  realiza 
tion,  or  at  least  assumption  of,  social  inferiority, 
in  addition  to  which,  a  literal  acceptance  of  the  doc 
trines  of  Christian  humility  and  meekness  accen 
tuated  her  natural  timidity  and  absence  of  self- 
confidence.  No  more  self-effacing,  humble  little 
lady  ever  lived  than  Mrs.  Kelly,  and  if  she  was 
a  saint  by  disposition,  rather  than  from  intellectual 
conviction,  who  shall  grudge  her  her  place  in  the 
hereafter?  So  Tom  came  naturally  by  the  be 
lief  that,  somehow,  he  was  not  quite  as  good  as 
most  of  the  other  people  who  lived  about  him,  and 
that  he  must  not  force  himself  upon  their  notice. 

The  result  of  this  social  reticence  was  that  Mrs. 
Kelly's  entire  circle  consisted  of  the  clergyman,  her 
suburban  aunts  and  cousins,  a  few  nondescript 
friends  picked  up  at  odd  boarding-houses  and  small 
hotels  during  the  summer  months,  and  one  or  two 
lone  ladies  like  herself,  living  either  on  her  own 
street  or  at  the  west  or  east  end  of  the  city, 
while  Tom's  acquaintances  were  acquired  at  the 
public  school  and  numbered  only  small  males  of 
his  own  age — the  sons  of  liverymen,  tradespeople, 
and  the  scions  of  the  foreign  population  then  being 
rapidly  drawn  by  economic  exigencies  to  Boston. 

For  girls,  owing  to  the  characteristics  of  the  fe 
male  cousins,  he  had  an  abiding  distrust  and  con- 


34         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

tempt,  and  when  he  encountered  them,  which  was 
rarely,  it  was  his  custom  to  distort  his  features  into 
a  grimace  and  give  them  a  wide  circle. 

His  mother,  by  no  means  so  unobservant  as  might 
have  been  expected,  had  formed  a  high  resolve  to 
give  Tom  a  thorough  religious,  and  then  an  equally 
thorough  intellectual,  education.  Only  her  diffi 
dence  prevented  her  from  entering  him  in  one  of 
the  excellent  private  schools  with  which  Boston 
abounded,  but  never  having  ventured,  save  in  a 
house  of  worship — all  persons  being  equal  "  before 
the  Lord" — to  mingle  with  what  she  supposed  to 
be  a  divinely  appointed  aristocracy,  she  could  not 
muster  sufficient  courage  to  thrust  her  son  where 
she  had  not  the  temerity  to  go  herself.  Led  by  an 
economic  instinct  to  seek  pleasure  and  virtue  by  the 
same  road,  she  took  Tom  each  year  to  some  one  of 
the  various  semireligious  watering-places  where  oth 
ers,  of  like  mind  and  similar  social  status,  gathered 
together  for  mutual  enjoyment.  One  which  she 
particularly  favored,  and  where  Tom  spent  many  of 
his  early  summers,  was  on  the  shores  of  a  small  lake 
in  Maine.  It  consisted  of  fifty-odd  shanties,  digni 
fied  as  "cottages"  by  the  occupants,  with  a  wooden 
chapel  and  general  store. 

The  preacher  was  also  the  local  postmaster  and 
owned  the  store  as  well.  His  name  was  "The 
Reverend  Sparrow."  Unlike  Uncle  Ezra,  he  was 
stout  and  good-natured,  with  a  hearty  way  of  call 
ing  the  members  of  his  flock  by  their  first  names, 
prefixed  by  "Brother"  or  "Sister."  On  week-days 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY         35 

he  wore  brown  overalls  and  a  black  alpaca  jacket, 
and  sat  on  the  store  piazza,  discoursing  on  politics 
and  religion.  His  lips  were  smooth  shaven,  but 
beneath  them  wagged  a  white  goat's  beard,  ineffec 
tually  screening  a  collarless  double  chin.  Tom  did 
not  esteem  him  as  he  esteemed  Uncle  Ezra.  There 
was  something  about  "The  Reverend  Sparrow" 
which  to  his  childish  instincts  did  not  ring  quite 
true,  for  on  Sundays  he  talked  about  sin,  hell  fire, 
and  damnation,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  cracked 
jokes  with  the  parishioners  as  he  weighed  out  their 
flour  and  sugar  and  handed  them  their  letters 
and  newspapers.  He  really  didn't  seem  to  find  life 
melancholy  at  all,  and  his  laugh  could  be  heard 
constantly  heehawing  all  through  the  camp.  This 
exceedingly  confused  Tom's  mind.  At  least  Uncle 
Ezra — and — to  a  reasonable  extent — his  mother, 
were  consistent.  They  were  constantly  occupied 
with  the  idea  of  being  "saved."  "The  Reverend 
Sparrow"  took  his  salvation  with  a  degree  of  jocu 
larity,  which  seemed  wrong  to  Tom;  but  when  he 
broached  the  subject  to  Mrs.  Kelly  she  assured  him 
that  the  preacher-postmaster  was  a  very  "wonderful 
man"  with  a  "beautiful  character."  Yet  Tom  had 
his  suspicions  of  him. 

The  visitors  boarded  at  low  rates  at  the  cottages, 
each  of  which  had  a  name,  the  majority  with  a 
biblical  suggestion,  such  as  "Armour  Bearer," 
"Galilee"  and  "Canaan,"  although  there  were 
others  more  secular  like  "Woodchuck,"  "Nut 
shell,"  and  "Ararat."  For  some  reason  these  last 


36         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

were  considered  rather  the  more  "chic,"  and  all  the 
visitors  engaged  in  much  good-natured  banter  over 
the  respective  merits  of  their  dwellings,  referring 
merrily  to  one  another  as  " Canaanites,"  "Wood- 
chucks,"  "Nuts,"  and  "Galiloots."  All  this  par 
tially  robbed  salvation  of  its  terrors  for  Tom.  But 
he  could  not  accustom  himself  to  "The  Reverend 
Sparrow's"  attitude  of  lightmindedness.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  good  gentleman  took  his  religion 
with  a  wink,  as  it  were. 

Tom  detested  these  wanderings  in  search  of  health 
and  society,  and  quickly  became  expert  in  discerning 
their  various  hypocrisies.  Each  of  the  boarding- 
houses  invariably  had  a  sort  of  presiding  genius — 
a  "grand  old  man" — in  the  shape  of  a  retired  clergy 
man,  who  "came"  year  after  year  (doubtless  at  re 
duced  rates)  and  who,  besides  reading  the  service 
on  Sundays,  "gave  a  tone"  to  the  social  gay e ties 
of  the  establishments.  Around  this  benevolent  old 
Buddha,  the  female  boarders  kowtowed  in  admira 
tion,  most  of  them  flabby  old  women,  who  spent 
their  time  knitting  in  rocking-chairs  on  the  front 
piazza.  The  chairs,  being  of  all  sizes,  moved  back 
ward  and  forward  with  varying  velocities  and  widely 
differing  parabolas,  and  gave  an  impression  not  un 
like  that  of  the  pendulums  of  hundreds  of  clocks 
set  in  a  row. 

Perhaps  the  most  dismal  of  these  establishments, 
t©  which  nevertheless  Mrs.  Kelly  and  Tom  re 
turned  year  after  year,  was  situated  in  the  foot 
hills  of  the  White  Mountains  on  a  stony  farm  in- 


THE  WORLD  >ND  THOMAS  KELLY         37 

fested  by  woodchucks.  By  courtesy  it  was  known 
as  the  Mountain  Home  House,  though  no  moun 
tains  were  within  reaching  distance,  and  its  religious 
atmosphere  was  heightened  by  the  fact  that  it  was 
located  directly  opposite  the  cemetery.  In  after 
years  the  mention  of  a  "summer  vacation"  in 
evitably  recalled  to  Tom  the  vision  of  a  hot,  low- 
ceiled  room  crowded  with  small  tables  about  which 
lingered  anaemic  waitresses  who  murmured  in  dis 
dainful  accents,  "Roast  beef  or  codfish  and  cream 
— rare  or  well  done?"  There  was  but  one  bath 
room,  even  less  inviting  than  the  one  on  Newbury 
Street,  and  the  boarders  spent  most  of  their  time 
sitting  on  the  piazza  watching  for  funerals. 

There  was  nothing  for  Tom  to  do  at  most  of  these 
resorts,  except  to  knock  aimlessly  the  cracked  and 
withered  wooden  balls  around  a  humpy  and  sun 
burnt  croquet-ground  in  the  company  of  some 
peevish  little  girl  or  "fleshy"  old  lady  who  wanted 
to  "reduce,"  or  to  whang  waterlogged  tennis-balls 
across  a  limp,  bedraggled  fish-net,  drooping  in  the 
middle  of  an  undulating  field  of  stubble.  For  this 
latter  sport,  destined  as  it  was  to  play  an  amazing 
part  in  his  subsequent  career,  Tom  had  an  indubi 
table  predilection,  and  while  his  mother  could  not 
afford  to  buy  him  a  real  racket,  he  nevertheless  prac 
tised  it  as  best  he  could  with  a  wooden  bat  whittled 
laboriously  out  of  a  stout  shingle. 

The  predominating  religious  view-point  in  these 
communal  households  differed  both  from  the  atti 
tude  of  Uncle  Ezra  and  Aunt  Minerva  and  also  from 


38         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

that  of  "The  Reverend  Sparrow."  The  God  of  the 
Jenkins  had  been  an  austere,  wrathful,  and  terrible 
God,  whose  shadow  seemed  to  hover  over  the  earth 
like  that  of  a  gigantic  bird  of  prey;  the  God  preached 
by  "The  Reverend  Sparrow"  was  of  the  same 
general  character  but  his  awfulness  was  somewhat 
mitigated  by  the  fact  that,  while  he  had  pro 
nounced  views,  he  hardly  lived  up  to  his  convictions, 
being  easily  placated  by  prayer  and  good  resolu 
tions — and  he  was  much  more  fearsome  on  Sun 
days  than  on  the  other  days  of  the  week;  but  the 
God  of  the  boarding-house  rusticators  was  entirely 
different,  for  he  was  as  abnormally  sensitive  as  he 
was  omnipotent — he  could  be  deeply  wounded  even 
by  a  little  child  thinking  an  unrighteous  thought. 
The  idea  that  he  was  hourly  inflicting  acute  pain  on 
the  Almighty  made  Tom  wretchedly  unhappy.  He 
would  have  preferred  to  take  his  chances  with 
the  fierce  swashbuckling  Jehovah  of  Uncle  Ezra 
and  Aunt  Minerva.  In  fact  he  worried  so  much 
over  the  celestial  suffering  of  which  he  supposed  him 
self  to  be  the  cause,  that  he  became  quite  melan 
choly.  His  mother  in  her  anxiety  sought  to  allay 
his  misery  by  telling  him  that  God  would  "under 
stand"  and  "make  allowances  for  little  boys," 
but  Tom  remained  unconvinced,  secretly  giving 
greater  credence  to  the  visiting  clergymen  who 
preached  in  the  hotel  parlor  on  Sundays  than  to  her. 
Thus  God  appeared  to  Tom  a  many-sided  and  some 
what  inconsistent  character. 
Peregrinating  thus  about  the  country,  Mrs.  Kelly 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY         39 

left  few  of  the  summer  resorts  of  New  England  un- 
visited  during  the  vacations,  and  one  August  she 
even  insisted,  much  against  her  son's  inclinations, 
upon  going  to  Newport  for  a  short  period.  His 
mother  seemed  to  have  a  consuming  natural  curiosity 
to  see  with  her  own  eyes  how  the  "other  half" 
lived.  They  stayed  at  a  cheap  hostelry  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  town,  and  spent  most  of  the  time  walk 
ing  aimlessly  about  the  streets,  sitting  in  the  hotel 
parlors,  and  occasionally  taking  short  drives.  Mrs. 
Kelly,  who  continued  to  wear  black  for  her  husband 
as  long  as  she  lived,  was  accustomed  to  sport  a  tiny 
parasol  of  the  variety  fashionable  about  1870,  the 
top  of  which  could  be  adjusted  or  "cocked"  side 
ways,  giving  it  a  rakish  air  that  suggested  that  the 
owner  must,  at  least,  have  "scallops  on  her  boots." 
Tom  loathed  the  peculiar-looking  thing,  and  being  a 
self-conscious  child,  used  to  squirm  in  agonized  em 
barrassment  as  his  mother,  carrying  her  parasol  in 
complete  unconsciousness  of  its  strange  appearance, 
led  him  along  Rhode  Island  Avenue,  while  they 
gazed  at  the  handsome  equipages  rolling  be 
neath  the  elms,  watched  the  fashionable  people 
going  and  coming  from  the  Casino,  or  examined  the 
stone  gateways  through  which  led  the  smooth, 
flower-bordered  driveways  to  the  palaces  of  the 
great. 

There  was  to  him  something  haughtily  brutal 
about  the  hidden  magnificence  which  he  knew  lurked 
behind  the  shrubbery  of  those  luxurious  gardens. 
Not  that  he  wanted  to  see  them  particularly,  only 


40         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  consciousness  of  being  excluded — that  the  "no 
admittance"  signs  were  meant  for  his  mother  and 
for  him — gave  him  the  feeling  of  personally  being  a 
sort  of  pariah,  classed  him  with  the  niggers,  as  it 
were.  Sometimes  when  his  mother  was  looking 
through  the  iron  railings  at  the  hydrangeas  he  would 
shake  his  small  brown  fist  at  the  stone  turrets  of  the 
mansion  beyond  the  trees.  And  it  was  in  a  rebel 
lious,  if  not  an  anarchistic,  frame  of  mind  that  Tom 
spent  those  two  miserable  weeks.  Yet  this  was  un 
usual,  for  most  of  the  time,  at  other  "resorts"  he 
was  merely  bored. 

When  school  opened  in  the  autumn  they  would 
return  to  the  Newbury  Street  house,  rejoined  by 
Bridget  who  always  spent  the  vacation  period  with 
her  married  sister  at  Nantasket  Beach.  Mrs. 
Kelly  would  resume  her  ecclesiastical  activities  and 
Tom  his  studies  at  the  public  school,  where  he  worked 
hard,  impelled  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  make  the  most 
of  his  opportunities  and  stimulated  thereto  by  his 
mother,  who  constantly  impressed  upon  him  the 
fact  that  he  had  his  "way  to  make  in  the  world," 
and  that  if  he  was  industrious,  and  neither  smoked 
nor  drank  until  he  was  twenty-one,  he  might  suc 
ceed,  not  only  in  an  earthly  sense,  but  also  by  lay 
ing  up  substantial  treasure  in  heaven. 

"But  I  would  rather  have  him  a  good  man  than  a 
great  man,"  she  would  say;  "I  have  always  told 
Tom  that." 

Thus  he  was  given  to  understand  that  though  it 
ought  not  to  be  difficult  for  a  youth  of  his  parts  to 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         41 

achieve  greatness,  nevertheless,  should  the  question 
arise,  he  would  be  expected  to  relinquish  prosperity 
for  virtue.  Just  what  his  mother  regarded  as  "suc 
cess"  from  a  worldly  point  of  view  Tom  was  never 
quite  sure  of,  but  from  casual  remarks  he  concluded 
that  she  had  in  mind  a  prosperity  about  equivalent 
to  that  of  Amos  Witherbee,  Cousin  Minnie's  hus 
band,  who  was  a  lumber  merchant  over  in  Cam- 
bridgeport.  Mrs.  Kelly  always  referred  to  Cousin 
Minnie  as  a  "beaidifid  woman,"  and  when  Tom, 
having  seen  her  for  the  first  time,  remonstrated  that 
she  was  not  beautiful  at  all  but  quite  the  contrary, 
his  mother  said:  "I  mean  she  has  a  beautiful  char 
acter.  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does.  If  you  were 
always  as  good  as  your  Cousin  Minnie  I  should  be 
perfectly  satisfied."  The  fact  was  that  "Cousin" 
Minnie  was  no  relation  at  all,  but  her  example  none 
the  less  may  have  inspired  Tom  to  virtue. 

Excepting  Saturdays,  school  "let  out"  at  two 
o'clock,  after  which  Tom  hastened  home  to  a  cold 
lunch,  and  then  rushed  out  into  the  street  to  play, 
while  his  mother  sat  sewing  at  the  bow  window  in 
the  parlor  awaiting  his  return.  At  first,  just  after 
his  graduation  from  Bridget  and  the  back  yard,  his 
amusements  were  confined  to  the  bounds  of  the 
block  upon  which  he  lived — to  snowballing,  play 
ing  "catch"  across  the  street,  spinning  tops,  or  roll 
ing  marbles,  for  the  collection,  started  by  the  Elder 
Kelly,  his  father,  had  multiplied  enormously.  But  as 
Tom  gained  in  wisdom  and  stature,  he  journeyed 
farther  afield,  stealing  long  rides  in  winter  down 


42         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  "back  allies"  on  grocerymen's  "pungs"  or  lead 
ing  exploring  expeditions,  composed  of  other  small 
school  friends  and  sometimes  of  friendly  "muckers," 
into  the  wildernesses  of  "Muddy  River"  and  the 
Milldam.  It  was  due  to  a  merciful  dispensation  of 
Providence  that  Mrs.  Kelly  could  not  see  her  only 
son  upon  these  excursions,  for  in  winter  the  boys 
"ran  tiddledees"  over  the  quaking,  ticklish  ice 
fields  of  the  Back  Bay  beyond  "Westchester  Park," 
and  in  summer  floated  recklessly  around  upon  rafts 
improvised  of  loose  boards,  fishing  for  eels.  Moved 
by  the  instinct  of  self-preservation — for  Tom's 
social  timidity  had  curdled  into  a  fierce  antagonism 
to  the  "rich  boys"  on  Commonwealth  Avenue  and 
Beacon  Street — he  organized  a  "gang"  of  social 
derelicts  like  himself,  to  wage  both  offensive  and 
defensive  warfare,  upon  other  and  similar  "gangs" 
in  other  quarters  and  upon  the  "muckers"  who 
periodically  appeared  like  invading  Huns  from  the 
south  and  west  ends  and  offered  battle  upon  the 
greensward  of  the  Avenue. 

Thus,  in  spite  of  his  mother's  constant  care,  Tom 
got  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  exercise,  and  expanded 
in  all  directions,  until  his  small  jackets  and  panta 
loons  were  stretched  to  bursting,  and  often  his 
wanderings  took  him  so  far  afield  that  it  was  long 
after  dark  before  he  reached  home,  weary  of  foot  and 
empty  of  stomach,  to  find  the  street-lamps  lighted 
and  his  mother  peering  from  behind  the  white  cur 
tains  of  the  parlor  window.  Instantly  she  would 
be  down-stairs  to  open  the  door,  giving  him  a  little 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         43 

reproving,  pecking  kiss,  accompanied  by  a  com 
plaining: 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  thought 
a  little  of  your  mother  and  not  stayed  out  after 
dark  in  this  way.  I  was  worried  to  death ! " 

And  Tom,  with  a  terrible  sinking  of  the  heart  and 
in  genuine  contrition,  would  admit  his  sin — crave 
pardon,  and  be  forgiven,  while  his  wet  shoes  were 
removed  from  his  feet,  and  they  and  his  small  back 
were  rubbed  vigorously  with  alcohol.  Then  in  dry 
clothes,  his  extremities  parboiled  from  the  after 
noon's  floundering  in  snow  or  water,  he  would  con 
sume  huge  quantities  of  Indian  meal  mush,  cold 
meat,  potatoes,  apple  sauce,  gingerbread,  and  highly 
diluted  milk  or  cocoa. 

Afterward  under  the  bronze  gaslight  in  the 
library  Tom  would  drowse  over  "Greenleafs  Mental 
Arithmetic"  or  the  "School  Geography"  while  his 
mother,  and  Aunt  Eliza,  possibly,  would  play  a 
game  of  "parchisi"  or  discuss  the  comparative  ex 
cellences  of  their  favorite  patent  medicines;  and 
when  the  marble  clock  on  the  mantel  chimed  nine 
he  was  quite  ready  to  climb  up  to  the  third  story 
rear  and  go  to  bed,  leaving  his  mother  to  come  up, 
kiss  him  softly  good  night,  and  turn  out  the  gas. 
On  the  whole,  it  was  by  no  means  an  unwholesome 
life  for  a  boy  to  lead. 

Though  Tom  regarded  his  mother  as  the  most 
perfect,  if  not  the  most  beautiful,  human  being  in 
the  world,  he  sometimes  wondered  why  he  found  it 
so  difficult  to  talk  to  her  about  the  various  subjects 


44         THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS   KELLY 

in  which  he  was  interested  or  which  he  was  taught 
at  school.  Mrs.  Kelly's  reading  was  confined  al 
most  entirely  to  the  Bible,  a  few  novels  of  a  strongly 
religious  flavor  by  Marie  Corelli,  and  the  death 
notices  in  the  Evening  Transcript.  She  recognized 
herself  as  quite  unable  to  cope  with  the  speculations 
and  perplexities  of  his  active  young  mind  and 
adroitly  evaded  all  topics  in  which  she  might  find 
herself  at  a  disadvantage.  In  consequence  their 
conversational  interchanges  wrere  almost  nil. 

As  the  reader  has  already  divined,  Mrs.  Kelly  was 
a  negative  sort  of  woman,  distrustful  of  her  own 
capacities,  and  supremely  conscious  of  her  own  limi 
tations.  Tom  was  the  centre  of  her  universe  and  she 
could  see  nothing  but  that  centre.  She  was  like  a 
hen  with  one  chick,  ready  to  flutter  it  off  to  safety 
at  the  first  premonition  of  danger,  but  prepared 
to  fight  viciously  for  her  offspring  if  occasion  de 
manded.  She  was,  so  to  speak,  a  mother  and 
nothing  else.  She  was  neither  a  wise  nor  discerning 
one.  But  she  gave  to  Tom  a  passionate  devotion 
that  made  her  the  abiding  influence  in  his  career. 
This  devotion  he  returned.  The  house  on  New- 
bury  Street  was  his  world,  albeit  a  very  small  one. 
Beyond  its  limits  he  strayed  but  rarely,  and  in  his 
wanderings  he  never  came  in  contact  with  any  more 
intellectual  or  luxurious  existence  than  his  own. 
There  was  practically  no  alteration  in  their  mode 
of  life  up  to  the  time  of  his  entry  into  college,  for 
which  he  had  been  passably  well  prepared  by  the 
public  schools  of  his  native  city,  and  thus,  when  at 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY         45 

last  his  mother  reluctantly  and  with  a  heart  full  of 
misgivings  cut  the  apron-strings  which  had  bound 
him  to  her,  Tom  at  the  age  of  eighteen  was  about 
as  innocent,  if  not  ignorant,  a  young  person  as  had 
ever  passed  inside  the  gates  of  Harvard  University, 
where,  to  be  strictly  accurate,  this  story  can  only 
be  said  to  begin. 


IV 


THE  pop-eyed  little  man  with  the  domelike  fore 
head  who  had  been  lecturing  to  the  class  in  mediaeval 
history — hurrying  breathlessly  through  his  notes 
so  that  Otto  the  Saxon  King  might  be  safely  crowned 
in  Rome  before  the  hands  of  the  big  clock  should 
reach  twelve — closed  his  portfolio  with  something 
like  a  snort  of  relief,  and  removed  his  double-lensed 
glasses. 

"Next  time  we  shall  consider  the  reciprocal  in 
fluence  of  the  Roman  and  Teutonic  elements  on 
the  character  of  the  empire,"  he  announced  se 
verely.  "There  will  be  an  hour  examination  next 
Friday  from  Theodoric  to  the  Dissolution  of  the 
Carolingian  domain." 

Two  hundred  pairs  of  shoes  simultaneously  scraped 
the  floor,  and  the  lecturer,  swiftly  grabbing  his 
derby  hat,  scurried  for  the  door  to  avoid  questions. 
There  were  always  half  a  dozen  grinds  who  wished 
to  display  their  erudition  by  digging  up  unheard  of 
minutiae  and  interrogating  him  casually  about  them 
as  if  they  were  matters  of  commonest  knowledge. 
He  had  seen  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  an  ass  named 
Ricker  trying  to  outflank  him  and  spring  (he  felt 
confident)  something  on  him  about  the  iconoclastic 
schism.  He  gained  the  exit  triumphantly,  however, 

46 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         47 

and  disappeared  like  a  rabbit  in  the  direction  of 
Quincy  Street,  for  it  was  a  drowsy,  soft  spring  day 
full  of  quivering  sunshine,  and  he  intended  to  go 
out  to  Oakland  for  a  game  of  golf. 

The  class  jostled  out  of  the  building,  and  scattered 
in  all  directions,  a  few  lingering  around  the  threshold 
of  the  old  red-brick  revolutionary  structure  to  smoke 
and  discuss  the  lecture. 

" '  Crabs'  was  on  the  run  to-day,"  grumbled  Ricker, 
who  having  lost  the  lecturer  was  eager  to  vent  his 
learning  on  somebody.  "I  had  a  hard  time  taking 
everything  he  said  down  in  shorthand — but  I  man 
aged  to  get  it.  That  stuff  about  the  '  Capitulary  of 
802'  for  instance — "  his  voice  rose  in  stealthy  en 
thusiasm. 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Ricker!"  growled  Tom  Kelly,  now 
grown  to  the  mature  age  of  nineteen.  "You  make 
us  all  tired.  It's  bad  enough  to  listen  to  ' Crabs' 
for  fifty  minutes  without  having  it  all  warmed  over 
and  dished  out  second  hand  by  you.  I  don't  even 
know  what  a  capitulary  is.  I  don't  want  to.  It 
sounds  something  like  a  caterpillar.  I'll  bet  it  was 
rotten,  anyway,  whatever  it  was." 

Ricker  was  eagerly  turning  the  pages  of  his  neatly 
inscribed  note-book. 

"All  persons  within  his  dominions,  as  well  ecclesi 
astical  as  civil,  who  had  already  sworn  allegiance  to 
him  as  King,  were  thereby  commanded  to  swear  to 
him  afresh  as  Caesar;  and " 

He  suddenly  ceased,  Tom  having  stuffed  a  cap 
into  his  mouth  and  thrown  him  backward  on  the 


48         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

greensward,  where  another  of  the  group  held  him 
prone  by  the  shoulders,  while  a  third  snatched  his 
precious  book  and  ran  across  the  yard  with  it  toward 
Thayer's  Hall. 

Ricker  arose,  grinning  sheepishly.  He  was  a  fat, 
pimply,  pasty-faced  youth  with  bristly  hair  radiating 
from  his  rather  small  head  like  porcupine  quills. 
Tom  made  a  good-natured  feint  at  him. 

"You'll  feel  differently,  you  bet,  when  you're 
cramming  for  the  exams,"  Ricker  protested,  spitting 
wool  from  his  mouth.  "There  ain't  another  feller 
but  me's  got  it  all.  I  could  sell  it  and  make  a  lot  of 
money  out  of  it." 

"Oh,  pouff ! "  cried  Tom.  "You  don't  understand 
that  mess  any  better  than  the  rest  of  us.  I'm 
gorged  with  schisms  and  alliances,  and  influences 
and  doctrines,  and  I  don't  even  know  where  the 
countries  were  that  had  'em !  Why  didn't  '  Crabs ' 
start  out,  for  instance,  with  a  big  map  and  a  poker 
and  tell  us  on  the  very  first  day  what  the  whole 
blooming  course  was  about  ?  He  could  have  pointed 
out  the  Garden  of  Eden  and  said:  'Adam  was  born 
here.9  Then  by  easy  stages  he  could  have  worked 
down  to  the  Middle  Ages  and  got  fairly  started. 
Instead,  he  talked  fifty  minutes  about  Alexandrian 
Neo-Platonism.  What  is  Neo-Platonism  ?  " 

"I  knew  three  months  ago,"  announced  Peters, 
a  tall,  sardonic  youth,  lighting  a  "Sweet  Cap" 
cigarette.  "But  I'm  damned  if  I  know  now.  What 
say  you  to  food  ?  The  odor  of  fat  venison  summons 
us  even  now  to  yonder  ivy-covered  hall." 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY         49 

He  turned  down  the  diagonal  path,  linking  his 
arm  through  that  of  Tom,  who  had  shot  up  to  six 
feet  in  height,  with  an  athletic,  if  slender,  build. 
Tom  did  not  like  Andy  Peters  unreservedly,  but  he 
had  had  so  little  choice  in  the  selection  of  friends 
that  Andy,  if  excluded  from  his  circle,  would  have 
left  a  wide  gap  in  it. 

Little  Arthur  Holden,  a  rosy-cheeked  boy,  whose 
father  was  a  clergyman  in  one  of  the  Boston  suburbs, 
strolled  along  beside  them. 

"I  agree  with  you,  Tom,"  said  he.  " They  deluge 
us  with  a  stream  of  Popes  and  Emperors  and  Kings 
— whose  names  we  won't  even  remember — and  dates 
and  diets  and  concordats  when  we  don't — most  of 
us — know  what  the  really  big  events  of  history  are." 

"Yes,"  answered  Tom,  "or  what  anybody  was 
like.  What's  the  use  of  knowing  what  relation 
Pipin  of  Herstal  was  to  Charles  Martel  when  no  one 
tells  you  whether  they  wore  paint  or  feathers,  or 
live,d  in  tents  or  houses.  I  can  tell  you  something 
about  the  Diet  of  Worms,  but  I  haven't  an  idea  what 
the  '  dieters'  looked  like,  whether  they  came  in  car 
riages  or  on  foot,  wore  their  hair  long  or  short,  or 
what  they  ate  for  dinner." 

"The  most  important  thing  is  what  we  are  going 
to  have  for  dinner ! "  vouchsafed  Peters.  "Oh,  hang ! 
— it's  'dog  day' — sausages  for  ours.  I  can  smell 
'em." 

They  walked  through  the  transept  of  Memorial 
Hall,  between  the  white  tablets  placed  there  in 
memory  of  Harvard's  sons  who  died  in  the  Civil 


50         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

War,  and  emerged  suddenly  out  of  its  shadowy 
silences  into  the  noise  and  clatter  of  the  great  col 
lege  commons. 

Tom  had  passed  through  a  healthy,  studious,  and, 
on  the  whole,  not  unhappy  adolescence  in  Boston, 
continuing  his  education  in  the  city's  public  schools 
and  finally  matriculating  in  his  eighteenth  year  at 
Harvard. 

In  these  intervening  years  Tom's  face  had  changed 
its  contour  and  his  curly  hair  had  darkened,  so 
that  it  was  now  auburn-brown.  His  forehead 
was  broad,  his  nose  straight,  his  eyes  a  deep  blue, 
his  lips  full  and  clear  cut,  and  his  chin  firm  and 
well  moulded.  He  moved  rather  deliberately,  but 
with  a  characteristic  certainty,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  his  " high-water"  trousers  and  generally 
shabby  clothes  he  would  have  passed  for  an  attrac 
tive  and  athletic  young  Englishman.  But  Mrs. 
Kelly  had  no  surplus  funds  to  waste  on  the  apparel 
of  either  her  son  or  herself,  and  so  Tom's  collars 
were  usually  frayed,  and  his  trousers  and  coats 
rarely  matched.  In  fact  his  habitual  costume  was 
a  very  shiny  blue  jacket  above  a  faded  pair  of  steel- 
gray  trousers.  Gloves  he  never  donned.  His  shoes 
were  always  down  at  the  heels  and  held  to  his  feet 
by  curiously  knotted  strings.  For  both  he  and  his 
mother  would  have  felt  that  they  had  sinned  had 
they  replaced  a  garment  still  capable  of  being  re 
paired.  Clothes,  like  food,  were,  according  to  their 
creed,  for  use  and  not  for  pleasure.  Their  lives  had 
no  room  for  mere  luxuries.  So  to  Tom  the  crude 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         51 

fare  of  Memorial  Hall  seemed  good,  as  it  undoubtedly 
was  in  the  sense  of  being  wholesome,  and  he  managed 
to  tuck  away  a  substantial  amount  of  it  three  times 
a  day,  to  which  he  added  a  supplementary  menu 
around  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  hardtack 
and  hot  chocolate  boiled  over  a  gas-stove  in  his  bed 
room. 

The  Hall,  even  at  a  quarter  past  twelve,  was 
filling  up  and  the  boys  found  several  of  their  table 
companions  already  there.  Most  of  them  had  been 
" assigned"  to  this  particular  table — the  one  under 
the  alleged  Stuart  portrait  of  Washington — by  the 
merest  chance,  having  had  no  group  of  their  own  to 
join.  Of  the  twelve,  two,  including  Tom,  came  from 
Boston,  one  from  Worcester,  two  from  Lowell,  one 
from  Chicago,  four  from  Dorchester  or  Roxbury, 
one  from  Alabama,  and  one  from  Texas,  and  all 
had  entered  Harvard  practically  without  friends. 

They  were  a  good-natured,  and  for  the  most  part, 
an  innocent-minded  lot  of  lads,  of  as  various  char 
acteristics  as  an  equal  number  of  grown  men.  Each 
was  the  product  of  his  own  home  influences,  and  a 
few  minutes'  conversation  with  any  of  them  would 
have  sufficed  to  disclose  the  character  and  attitude 
toward  life  of  the  boy's  parents,  if  he  had  any. 

"Here  you,  Moses!"  shouted  Tom  to  the  negro 
waiter.  "Bring  me  a  couple  of  'hot  dogs' !  Who's 
got  the  spuds?  Pass  'em  along,  you  Cryder." 

He  took  his  place  at  the  end  of  the  table  and 
began  to  spread  a  large  disk  of  ship's  biscuit  with  an 
extremely  salt  variety  of  kitchen  butter. 


52         THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

"Coin7  out  for  the  track  team?"  inquired  Cryder, 
who  was  a  brawny  Viking  of  six  feet  three.  "I 
should  think  you'd  make  a  good  man  for  the  quarter 
mile." 

Tom  shook  his  head,  his  mouth  being  full  of  hard 
tack.  He  felt  no  confidence  in  any  athletic  prow 
ess. 

"  A  chap  gets  a  fair  deal  there,  anyhow,"  asserted 
Cryder.  "They  can't  leave  you  off  the  team  if  you 
beat  the  other  fellow !  I  didn't  get  any  show  at  all 
for  the  footbaU  team." 

"It  did  seem  as  if  you  might  have  made  our  class 
eleven,"  said  Tom  politely,  ignoring  the  fact  that 
Cryder  had  made  a  pitiful  spectacle  of  himself  in 
the  Freshman  try-out. 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  myself,"  apologized  Cryder 
hurriedly.  "But  in  general  there's  a  terrible  lot 
of  favoritism,  don't  you  think?  Societies  for 
instance 

"Sh!"  interpolated  Peters.  "Don't  you  know 
enough  not  to  talk  about  such  things  right  out 
loud  in  Memorial  Hall?  Somebody  might  hear 
you!  You're  not  supposed  to  know  that  they 
exist." 

"They  don't  for  most  of  this  bunch!"  growled 
Ricker,  the  grind.  "You  fellows  have  about  as 
much  chance  to  make  the  ' Dicky'  as  this  nigger 
Moses.  I  tell  you  no  one  has  any  social  pull  in 
this  place  unless  he  had  a  father  or  an  uncle  in 
one  of  the  clubs  or  comes  from  one  of  the  swell 
schools." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         53 

"Bunk!"  retorted  Tom.  "I  don't  believe  any 
such  thing.  If  I  was  running  a  social  club,  Ricker, 
you  bet  I  wouldn't  have  you  in  it !  You'd  turn  all 
the  drinks  sour!" 

"Never  you  mind!"  scowled  Ricker.  "You'll 
find  out  I'm  right,  all  right.  Look  here !  How  many 
of  those  fellows  who  live  in  Claverly  Hall  have  you 
met?  How  many  men  from  the  Back  Bay  come  to 
your  room?" 

"I  come  from  the  Back  Bay  myself!"  grinned 
Tom,  and  the  rest  of  them  laughed.  Ricker  re 
turned  venomously  to  his  sausages. 

"Well,  we  can't  all  of  us  be  swells!"  spoke  up 
Arthur  Holden.  "I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  all  of 
us  made  some  club  or  other.  And  what  difference 
would  it  make  even  if  we  didn't?  You  fellows  are 
good  enough  for  me !" 

"Hear!  Hear!  Just  listen  to  Little  Hopeful !" 
sneered  Peters.  He  glowered  at  Holden  malevo 
lently.  Something  evidently  had  touched  him  on 
the  raw.  Suddenly  he  smashed  his  glass  down  up 
on  the  table  so  that  the  milk  leaped  in  a  jet  into 
the  air. 

"Damn  it!"  he  cried  excitedly,  "what  do  you 
want  to  go  and  spoil  my  lunch  for?  It's  rotten! 
Everybody  knows  it's  rotten!"  he  blurted  out  the 
words,  glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  the  near-by 
tables  as  if  fearful  of  being  overheard.  "You  talk 
like  a  lot  of  holy  kids.  We're  a  bunch  of  lemons, 
and  the  sooner  we  admit  it  to  ourselves  the  better." 
He  looked  upward  suddenly  toward  the  gallery. 


54         THE   WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

" There!  If  you  want  to  succeed  at  Harvard  you 
ought  to  behave  like  that  beastly  little  snob  Gather- 
wood  up  there.  Just  look  at  him !  I'd  like  to  punch 
his  face!'7 

The  boys  raised  their  eyes  with  one  accord.  A 
small,  neatly  dressed  young  gentleman  with  care 
fully  parted  hair  was  standing  in  the  gallery  beside 
a  girl  in  a  pink-and-blue  muslin  dress.  She  gazed 
curiously  down  on  the  hundreds  of  undergraduates 
whom  her  escort  seemed  to  regard  with  supercilious 
condescension,  as  he  indicated  various  features  of 
the  hall  with  his  freshly  gloved  hand. 

Catherwood  was  in  fact  an  unfortunate  example 
of  the  single  cad  who  in  every  college  class  manages 
somehow  to  get  himself  accepted  at  his  own  exalted 
valuation  and,  through  the  indolence  or  good  nature 
of  his  associates,  to  win  a  conspicuous  social  place 
in  the  college  life. 

"Oh,  Lord!  Look  at  him!"  echoed  Cryder. 
"He's  got  on  new  yellow  chamois  gloves !" 

"Showing  her  how  the  animals  feed!"  snarled 
Peters  again. 

At  that  moment  a  middle-aged  man  in  a  frock- 
coat  and  shining  tall  hat,  who  bore  a  distinct  re 
semblance  to  the  dapper  youth,  appeared  beside  the 
couple. 

Instantly  all  the  students,  in  accordance  with 
ancient  custom,  turned  toward  the  gallery  and  be 
gan  to  clap  vigorously.  The  girl  blushed,  became 
confused  and  drew  back,  but  the  gentleman  seemed 
under  the  impression  that  the  applause  was  a  tribute 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         55 

to  himself  for  he  smiled  and,  almost  imperceptibly, 
bowed.  At  this  the  clapping  doubled  in  volume. 
In  return  the  elegant  stranger  made  a  pronounced 
inclination  in  the  direction  of  the  audience  below 
and  slightly  raised  his  hat.  The  din  increased.  A 
thunderous  roar  arose  from  the  tables,  accompanied 
by  the  banging  of  knives  and  forks  and  stamping. 
Catherwood,  the  younger,  hurried  forward  and 
spoke  hastily  to  the  innocent  cause  of  the  distur 
bance,  who,  theretofore  merely  mystified,  now  looked 
very  foolish  and  removed  his  hat  entirely,  amid 
renewed  applause — after  which  he  hastily  fled. 

"Seems  a  swell  can  make  as  big  an  ass  of  himself 
as  anybody ! "  opined  Tom.  "  So  that's  Catherwood, 
is  it?" 

"I  always  heard  he  was  a  very  nice  fellow," 
asserted  a  boy  named  Wai  ton- Smith  who  spoke 
with  a  careful  enunciation  and  was  rather  better 
dressed  than  the  others  at  the  table.  "I  don't  see 
how  it's  anything  against  him  that  he's  rich.  He 
can't  help  that,  can  he?  I  bet  he's  all  right  or  all 
those  big  men  in  the  class  wouldn't  go  with  him." 

"Better  call  on  him  at  his  suite  in  Dunster  and  see 
for  yourself,"  grimly  suggested  Peters.  "My,  but 
you'd  get  the  icy  mitt ! " 

Tom  maintained  silence.  He  had  had  an  experi 
ence  with  Catherwood  earlier  in  the  year.  The 
first  day  of  the  term  when  the  line  formed  in  the 
yard  to  "register"  he  had  found  himself  beside  this 
very  boy,  although  he  had  not  known  his  name. 
Though  the  latter  was  only  coldly  polite  they  had 


56         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

had  some  slight  conversation,  which  Tom  had  re 
garded  as  sufficient  excuse  for  nodding  when  next 
they  met.  But  Catherwood  had  looked  over  his 
head,  declining  either  to  recognize  him  or  return  his 
salutation  in  any  way.  Deeply  chagrined,  Tom  tried 
to  deceive  himself  into  the  belief  that  Catherwood's 
rudeness  was  unintentional  and  due  to  bad  eyesight. 
He  knew  better,  however.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  realized  that,  for  some  reason,  another 
human  being  did  not  wish  his  acquaintance.  It  was 
a  trifling  incident  but  it  had  been  like  a  blow  in  the 
face,  and  had  driven  him  deep  into  his  shell.  There 
after  he  had  waited  to  be  introduced  to  his  class 
mates  and  the  introductions  had  been  few.  Yet 
his  natural  spirits  were  high  and  he  had  a  dry, 
whimsical  humor  that  could  keep  the  boys  chuckling, 
as  he  recounted  various  childish  experiences  in  which 
figured  Uncle  Ezra,  the  "  Reverend  Sparrow,"  and 
other  worthies.  Being  at  this  period  simple,  kindly, 
and  straightforward,  as  well  as  more  than  usually 
sociable,  Tom,  not  knowing  how  to  make  new  ac 
quaintances,  took  up  with  such  wastrels  as  chance 
cast  in  his  path,  and,  his  friendships  being  fortuitous, 
the  friends  themselves  were  of  a  heterogeneous 
character.  But  the  canker  of  discontent  gnawed 
at  his  heart,  when  he  saw  other  men,  who,  perhaps, 
had  made  the  athletic  teams,  becoming  good  friends 
and  running  things  generally  while  he  figured  in 
the  class,  so  far  as  he  figured  at  all,  as  a  mere  spec 
tator.  But  he  made  up  his  mind  never  to  admit 
disappointment!  There  was  no  use  being  a 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         57 

"grouch/'  and  people  had  to  be  left  out  in  college 
just  as  much  as  anywhere  else,  so  when  Peters  had 
said  that  they  were  a  "bunch  of  lemons"  he  had  dis 
sented  as  vigorously  as  the  others.  Nevertheless 
he  knew  it  was  true.  They  were  lemons — of  a 
sort !  He  was  sensitive  to  a  lack  of  what  might  be 
called  "quality"  in  all  of  them — except  perhaps 
Francis  True,  the  dreamy  little  cripple  who  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  studying  music  and  reading 
poetry.  He  roomed  just  over  Tom  and  was  always 
apologizing  to  him  about  the  piano,  although  to  the 
latter  it  was  a  real  delight.  Those  other  chance 
friends  of  his  lacked — he  couldn't  say  just  what. 
It  was  something  about  their  point  of  view.  They 
had  a  penchant,  even  Holden,  for  rather  dirty  stories. 
Ricker  was  a  coarse  brute,  and  so  was  Cryder,  while 
Smith  and  Peters  had  the  habit  of  mysteriously  dis 
appearing  in  the  evenings,  either  alone  or  together 
and  turning  up  the  next  afternoon  very  seedy  and 
with  their  eyes  ringed  with  circles.  Smith  made 
such  a  noise  about  being  a  gentleman  that  Tom 
found  him  unconvincing.  If  he  hadn't  talked  about 
it  so  much,  perhaps ! 

At  the  same  time  he  knew  that  there  were  men  in 
the  class  that  were  his  ideal  in  every  way — Ray 
mond  Dwight,  for  instance,  the  president,  who  had 
lived  all  his  life  on  Commonwealth  Avenue  within 
five  blocks  of  Tom's  house  without  their  ever  hav 
ing  met.  But  how  get  to  know  him? 

Tom  still  spent  his  Sundays  at  home  with  his 
mother,  returning  to  the  Newbury  Street  house  in 


58         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

time  for  supper  on  Saturday  night.  Mrs.  Kelly 
was  now  over  sixty  and  her  hair  was  nearly  white; 
Bridget  also  had  broad  streaks  of  gray  in  her  thin 
straight  tresses  and  her  homely  face  was  heavily 
lined  with  wrinkles;  while  Maggie,  his  old  nurse, 
had  succumbed  to  the  drunken  endearments,  sup 
plemented  by  legal  threats,  of  her  tailor  husband 
and  had  disappeared  into  the  wooden  wildernesses 
of  Roxbury.  Also  his  mother  had  relaxed  .some 
thing  of  her  religious  severity,  while  adhering  strin 
gently  to  its  outward  forms  and  observances. 
She  still  attended  regularly  all  the  meetings  of  her 
various  church  societies  and  had  induced  Tom  by 
urgent  solicitation  to  act  as  an  usher  on  Sundays, 
but  she  had  no  realization  of  the  necessity  of  youth 
for  mere  gayety  and  laughter.  She  thought,  good 
soul,  that  it  should  be  enough  for  Tom,  after  his 
week  in  Cambridge,  to  sit  quietly  at  home  on 
Saturday  nights  with  her  in  the  library,  and  on 
Sundays  to  escort  her  sedately  to  their  house  of 
worship. 

But  acting  as  an  usher  at  St.  Agnes's  was  a  pretty 
tame  substitute  for  the  week-end  relaxations  of  most 
of  the  other  boys  in  the  class.  There  were  Papanti's 
elegant  " Saturday  Evenings,"  for  instance,  at  which 
the  youth  and  beauty  of  the  Back  Bay  and  of 
Harvard  then  foregathered  just  as  they  had  for 
generations  past.  There  had  been  a  succession  of 
Papantis  and  everybody  in  Boston  (who  was  Any 
body)  attended  their  classes,  just  as  he  belonged  to 
the  Somerset  Club  and  had  a  seat  at  the  Symphony 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         59 

Rehearsals.  But  Tom  knew  that  he  could  never 
hope  to  break  into  Papanti's  select  circle — for  there 
had  never  been  a  Kelly  in  the  dancing-'class  and 
there  never  would  be.  In  various  indefinable  ways 
it  had  been  brought  home  to  Tom  during  the  ten 
years  preceding  his  advent  in  Cambridge,  that 
anybody  of  his  name  was  regarded  by  the  Back 
Bay  somehow  as  a  sort  of  "mucker." 

Tom  had  begun  his  career  at  Harvard  without 
even  a  rudimentary  knowledge  of  the  art  of  dancing, 
and,  needless  to  say,  did  not  own  any  garments  that 
by  the  extremest  poetic  license  could  be  regarded 
as  "evening  dress."  When  his  friend  Walton- 
Smith,  therefore,  invited  him  to  a  dinner  at  the 
Wralton-Smith  villa  in  Brookline  "to  be  followed  by 
dancing"  it  was  necessary  to  explain  to  him  that 
dress  clothes  were  de  rigueur;  and  Tom,  resolved  to 
make  the  most  of  his  opportunities,  went  down  some 
where  on  lower  Washington  Street  and  there  un 
earthed  a  "Professor"  Salvini  who,  for  half  a  dollar, 
gave  him  fullest  instructions  as  to  how  to — "one- 
two-three-slide"  and  permitted  him  to  spend  an 
hour  waltzing  with  two  stout  Swedish  cooks,  his 
pupils.  The  cooks  were  not  only  good-natured 
but  danced  rather  well,  and  Tom,  having  hired  a 
dress  suit  for  three  dollars,  attended  the  Walton- 
Smiths'  dinner  and  enjoyed  it  hugely. 

It  was  his  first  glimpse  of  any  sort  of  luxury. 
He  did  not  know  that  it  was  a  pretentious  affair, 
that  his  hosts  were  ill-bred  nouveaux  riches,  that  the 
music  was  cheap,  and  the  dinner  sent  in  from  a 


6o         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

caterer's.  He  saw  only  bright  flowers  and  the 
faces  of  smiling  girls,  heard  only  the  exhilarating 
strains  of  the  waltz.  To  his  starved  soul  it  was 
little  less  than  ecstasy.  And  this  peep  into  the 
world  of  gayety  sent  Tom  back  to  his  lonely  room 
in  Cambridge  even  more  disgruntled  than  before, 
feeling  that  he  had  been  cheated  out  of  something 
which  it  was  too  late  for  him  ever  to  regain,  and 
that  among  those  vaguely  responsible  were  Uncle 
Ezra,  Aunt  Minerva,  and  the  " Reverend  Sparrow.7' 
Without  having  a  suspicion  of  it,  he  was  ripe  for  a 
revolt,  almost  ready  to  kick  over  the  moral  bucket 
and  "  spill  the  beans."  Without  acknowledging  it, 
he  was  sick  of  Horatio  P.  Ricker,  Cryder,  Holden, 
Peters,  Walton-Smith — all  of  them!  He  wanted 
something  better — just  what,  he  could  not  have 
formulated.  He  wanted,  doubtless,  what  he  had  no 
right  to  expect — that  the  world  should  be  changed, 
and  the  hopelessness  of  it  all,  including  the  fact  that 
the  world  wouldn't  change,  was  so  obvious  to  him 
that,  as  he  sat  in  his  room  on  the  evening  of  the 
celebrated  appearance  of  Mr.  Howard  Catherwood's 
father  in  the  gallery  of  Memorial  Hall,  he  could 
hardly  read  his  Gibbon  for  the  blinding  tears  that 
would  force  themselves  between  him  and  the  fine 
print  of  the  page — for  there  was  a  sound  in  the  yard 
that  fills  the  Freshman  either  with  ecstasy  or  de 
spair,  the  lilting  song  of  a  hundred  men  as  they 
march  to  "take  out"  the  latest  member  of  the  "In 
stitute  of  1770." 

They  were  coming  across  the  Yard  from  some 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         6 1 

other  building  and  the  song  grew  louder  and  louder 
each  moment. 

"Tra  lala  — la !— lala !— lala !— lalalala !— lala ! 
— lala!— la! " 


Other  lads,  sitting  alone  in  other  shabby  rooms, 
heard  the  song  and  their  hearts  stopped  beating. 
Even  Tom,  wholly  aware  that  there  was  probably 
not  a  soul  in  that  entire  heterogeneous  society  who 
knew  him  by  name,  held  his  breath  as  the  tramping 
feet  drew  near.  Could  they  possibly  have  heard 
about  him  in  some  mysterious  fashion?  Perhaps 
they  had  a  system  of  secretly  looking  up  everybody 
in  the  class  without  his  knowing  it  and 

"Tra  lala  —  la !  —  lala !  —  lala !  —  lala ! " 

They  were  right  outside  now.  They  were  coming 
in!  The  goose-flesh  rose  on  his  back  and  arms. 
Their  footsteps  thundered  on  his  very  threshold ! 
His  head  swam  in  an  agony  of  expectation.  Why 
didn't  they  pound  on  the  door  or  break  it  in? 
Should  he  go  and  open  it — just  a  crack  ?  For  a 
moment  there  was  silence  outside — and  he  could 
hear  the  rustle  of  a  paper.  In  that  instant  partial 
sanity  returned  to  him.  Of  course  it  couldn't  be 
that  they  were  coming  for  him —  But  for  whom? 
— in  that  building?  Suddenly  with  a  shout  the 
crowd  stampeded  on  up  the  wooden  stairs 

"Tra  —  lala  —  la  -  - "  the  song  halted  for  lack  of 
breath. 


62         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

He  heard  a  sharp  knock  directly  over  his  head,  a 
confusion  of  voices,  cheers,  and  then  a  tumult  of 
feet  as  the  crowd  descended  again  and  poured  out 
into  the  Yard. 

They  had  taken  out  little  Frank  True ! 

Astounded,  Tom  threw  open  his  window  and  let 
the  humid  night-air  dry  the  sweat  that  had  gathered 
profusely  on  his  forehead.  He  felt  strangely  weak. 
They  were  nearly  down  to  Matthew's  now — the 
song  getting  fainter  and  fainter.  Frank  True? 
Why,  True  didn't  begin  to  know  as  many  fellows 
as  he  did !  They  took  True ! 

"You  in, 'Irish'?" 

The  door  had  been  burst  unceremoniously  open 
by  Ricker,  who,  collarless,  his  head  bound  with  a 
wet  towel,  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  some  kind  of 
stroke. 

"Say!"  Ricker 's  voice  choked  as  if  his  throat 
were  quite  dry.  "Are  you  on  to  what's  happened? 
The  'Institute's'  taken  out  Frank  True!  That 
miserable  little  skate  up-stairs !  Nobody  ever  heard 
of  him  at  all!  Damn  it  all!  Damn  everything!" 
Ricker  was  beside  himself — frankly  crying 

"Oh,  buck  up !"  replied  Tom,  gazing  bitterly  into 
the  night. 

"I  heard  'em  coming,"  Ricker  almost  sobbed. 
"They  stopped  right  out  in  front — and — I — I — 
thought  maybe —  I  bet  you  did  too — ' Irish'! 
How  c'd  we  help  it?  And  it's  that  little  squirt  that 
plays  the  piano  all  day!  How  do  you  s'pose  he 
ever  got  any  pull?  And  look  how  I've  worked! 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS   KELLY         63 

You  know  merit  ought  to  count  for  something! 
And  you,  too,  Tom — you  really  know  a  whole  lot 
of  fellows!" 

Tom  did  not  respond,  for  his  universe  was  rocking. 
Of  course,  True  might  be  a  swell  in  disguise — you 
could  easily  be  mistaken,  especially  in  one  of  those 
awfully  quiet  fellows.  And  on  the  other  hand  it 
might  have  been  merely  a  chance  shot.  He  didn't 
believe  those  things  went  by  chance,  though.  How 
ridiculous  of  Ricker  to  have  the  absurd  idea  that 
they  were  coming  after  him !  And  yet — his  spirits 
sank — what  reason  had  he  to  suppose  that  he  was 
any  more  socially  acceptable  than  the  grind? 
Weren't  they  two  of  a  kind — two  lemons  off  the 
same  tree?  He  felt  a  sudden  detestation  for  both 
Ricker  and  himself. 

"Hang  it!"  he  growled,  without  looking  round. 
"Don't  be  a  sour-belly!  Quit  the  baby  act,  won't 
you?" 

Then,  hearing  nothing,  and  feeling  that  he  had 
been  a  bit  inconsiderate,  he  added: 

"Of  course,  it's  rotten  hard  lines !" 

There  was  no  response  and  he  turned  to  find 
the  room  empty.  Ricker  had  retired  to  the  more 
sympathetic  atmosphere  of  his  own  dingy  quarters 
across  the  landing.  Tom,  glad  of  his  departure, 
filled  his  pipe  and  smoked  it  in  silent  bitterness  of 
spirit.  Curse  the  luck!  Everybody  else  seemed 
to  be  having  a  good  time  except  himself  and  his  own 
crowd  of  left-overs.  There  was  nothing  for  him  but 
to  grind — grind ! 


64         THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

And  what  good*  would  it  do  him  in  the  end? 
Four  years  thrown  away  when  he  might  be  getting 
ahead  in  some  good  business — or  studying  law  per 
haps.  There  he  would  sit  by  himself  in  that  same 
room  for  four  dreary  years !  What  was  the  use  of 
his  being  at  Cambridge  at  all  ?  It  was  just  inviting 
misery !  He  had  looked  forward  in  a  vague  way  to 
college  as  a  place  where  all  the  fellows  in  a  class 
sat  around  on  the  grass  joking  one  another,  or  sing 
ing  songs  about  "bright  college  days."  Bright  col 
lege  days !  He  didn't  know  even  his  own  class 
mates  when  he  saw  them  in  the  Yard ! 

A  step  sounded  outside  and  Peters  sauntered  in. 

"That  was  a  hell  of  a  note,  wasn't  it?"  he  in 
quired.  "A  lot  of  slobs  must  have  had  heart-failure 
to-night,  all  right!  Well,  I  always  suspected  True 
of  being  a  deep  one.  But  it'll  all  come  out  in  the 
wash." 

He  went  over  and  stood  by  the  window  and  Tom 
perceived  that  he  was  arrayed  in  an  immaculate 
blue  suit  with  a  dun-colored  waistcoat. 

"Look  here!"  said  Peters  suddenly.  "Aren't 
you  ever  going  to  get  any  fun  out  of  life?  Come 
along  into  Boston  with  me  right  now  and  let's 
make  a  night  of  it.  Why  not  have  a  good 
time?  We're  out  of  it  here,  fast  enough,  but 
Cambridge  isn't  the  whole  world  by  any  manner 
of  means.  That  blooming  'tra  —  la  —  la'  has  got 
on  my  nerves!" 

Peters's  suggestion  had  come  at  the  psychological 
moment,  for  Tom  felt  the  physical  need  of  escape 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         65 

from  an  atmosphere  which  seemed  to  be  smothering 
him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked  in  per 
fect  innocence  of  Peters's  actual  designs. 

"Have  a  boiled  live  lobster  and  mug  of  musty, 
first  off,"  he  answered,  suppressing  the  smile  that 
rose  to  his  lips. 

"Cost  much?" 

"Oh,  I'll  blow  you !"  offered  Peters  royally.  "I 
need  a  really  jovial  companion." 

Tom  gave  a  melancholy  laugh. 

"All  right,"  he  agreed,  "I'll  go  you." 

He  blew  out  the  kerosene-lamp  swiftly,  as  if  fear 
ful  that  he  might  change  his  mind,  and  snatched  his 
hat  off  the  peg  behind  the  door. 

"I'll  go  as  far  as  you  like ! "  he  added  as  he  kicked 
to  the  door  viciously;  and  they  hurried  down  the 
steps  together  into  the  darkness  of  the  Yard. 


TOM  did  not  awake  next  day  until  noon  and,  when 
at  last  he  did,  it  was  with  a  severe  headache  over 
his  right  eye  and  a  taste  in  his  mouth  suggestive  of 
having  devoured  dusty  fur.  Moreover,  he  had  also 
an  aggravating  realization  that  the  fun  had  been 
by  no  means  worth  the  price  he  was  now  paying 
for  it,  and  that  he  had  escaped  lasting  degradation 
only  by  a  narrow  margin.  His  excesses,  however, 
had  culminated  only  in  the  drinking  of  rather  too 
much  musty  ale,  a  form  of  refreshment  to  which  he 
was  entirely  unaccustomed. 

The  reason  for  this  had  been  simple.  The  sur 
face  car  in  which  Peters  and  he  had  journeyed  into 
Boston  passed  within  a  block  of  his  mother's  home 
in  Newbury  Street  and  Tom  had  had  a  momentary 
vision  of  the  white-haired  little  old  lady  sitting  in 
the  library  over  her  knitting.  He  had  almost  been 
moved  to  stop  the  car  and  to  go  over  to  the  house 
to  bid  her  good  night.  But  he  felt  self-conscious 
about  it — he  told  himself  that  it  would  not  have 
been  polite  to  Peters.  The  thought  of  his  mother 
had,  however,  tempered  the  recklessness  of  his  first 
mood,  and  when,  after  the  "lobster  and  musty" 
at  Billy  Park's,  Peters  had  proposed  "going  along 
on  somewhere"  Tom  had  mumbled  something  in- 

66 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         67 

articulate  about  "an  hour  exam,  the  next  day" 
and  rather  brusquely  parted  from  him  on  the  side 
walk. 

He  was  inexpressibly  glad  now  that  he  had.  He 
lay  in  bed  gazing  at  a  spot  on  the  wall,  just  as  when 
a  child  he  had  stared  up  at  the  variegated  worsted 
motto  over  his  mother's  bedroom  door  that  invited 
him  in  ornamental  characters  to  come  and  "Be 
Saved."  He  could  see  it  now — "Look  unto  Me 
and  Be  Ye  Saved."  How  often  as  a  small  boy  he 
had  asked  himself:  "Saved"  from  what?  Hell 
with  its  sulphurous  fumes,  as  pictured  by  Uncle 
Ezra,  had  faded  out  of  his  existence,  not  at  all  as 
the  result  of  any  reasoning  process  but  simply  as  it 
were  "by  attrition."  What  was  there  to  be  saved 
from?  Why  was  it  necessary  to  be  saved? 

His  subconscious  mind  visualized  the  room  in 
which  he  had  been  born.  He  saw  the  sad,  sweet 
face  of  the  steel-engraved  Madonna  over  the  marble 
mantelpiece  and  the  fat,  happy,  wise  little  child  in 
her  arms.  And,  as  he  lay  there  half  dreaming,  the 
face  seemed  to  change  to  that  of  his  mother  when 
she  was  young,  her  eyes  full  of  the  mystery  of  mother 
hood,  and  the  baby  on  her  bosom  became  himself— 
little  Tom.  He  recalled  how  she  would  clasp  him 
tightly  to  her  as  a  tiny  child;  and  he  fancied  now 
that  he  could  almost  feel  her  arms. 

The  twelve-o'clock  recitation-bell  clanged  from 
the  cupola  of  Massachusetts  and  startled  him  to 
broad  wakefulness.  The  faces  on  the  wall  dis 
solved,  leaving  only  the  spot.  Through  the  open 


68         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

window  came  the  smell  of  cut  grass  and  hot  earth, 
and  the  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps  on  the  stone 
flagging  outside.  Then,  just  above  his  head,  some 
body  began  playing  Mendelssohn's  "  Spring  Song." 
He  listened,  enchanted  in  spite  of  his  wretchedness. 
He  could  almost  hear  the  birds  singing  in  the  budding 
branches  of  white  blossoming  trees,  see  the  butter 
flies  as  they  flickered  from  flower  to  flower,  smell 
the  riotous  perfumes  of  a  germinating  and  nascent 
world.  The  pianist  played  as  if  he,  too,  were  happy. 
The  instrument  seemed  to  be  singing  joyously  in 
answer  to  his  loving  touch. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  listening  Tom  again  ex 
perienced  the  pangs  of  jealousy.  No  wonder  True 
was  happy!  No  wonder  the  notes  fell  in  an  ec 
static  shower  from  his  fingers !  Bah !  Tom  turned 
over  and  tried  to  invite  sleep  once  more.  In  spite 
of  his  disappointment  the  music  soothed  him  again 
into  a  state  of  semiconsciousness.  He  found  him 
self  repeating,  over  and  over,  the  words  "Come  and 
be  saved — Come  and  be  saved";  and  suddenly  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  had  been  saved  from  some 
thing  by  the  thought  of  his  mother  the  night  before. 
Curious !  Perhaps  the  words  of  Christ  had  a  signif 
icance  he  had  not  suspected.  Perhaps  different 
people  were  saved  differently — from  different  things, 
or,  at  least,  by  different  means.  The  "  Spring  Song  " 
had  ceased  and,  in  its  stead,  Nevin's  "Papillon" 
was  darting  amid  a  flower-bed  of  sweet  music.  Per 
haps  some  people  were  saved  by  music.  Some, 
perhaps,  by  their  mothers.  And  some  by  the  love 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         69 

of  God  and  belief  in  Jesus.  A  qualm  of  nausea  made 
him  realize  his  own  little  present  Hell  very  acutely. 
That,  he  had  not  been  saved  from,  but  he  had  been 
saved  from  the  agony  of  an  utter  loss  of  self-respect. 
It  was  a  great  old  puzzle,  this  human  life ! 

At  length  he  got  up  and  weakly  dressed.  The 
sunlight  dizzied  him  at  first,  but  soon  the  fresh  air 
made  him  feel  much  better  and  he  crawled  as  far 
as  the  front  steps  and  watched  the  fellows  pouring 
out  of  the  old  buildings  to  go  to  lunch.  No  lunch 
for  him,  thank  you!  The  men  streamed  past  him 
by  the  hundred,  some  plodding  along  alone,  some 
walking  in  twos  and  threes,  and  occasionally  in  a 
phalanx  of  twelve  or  fifteen  jovial  companions.  But 
out  of  the  lot  only  about  two  nodded  to  him.  The 
rest  were  as  good  as  strangers.  Was  there  any  rea 
son  why  half  the  class  should  have  a  good  time  and 
the  other  half  not?  Why  should  he  be  left  out? 
Hadn't  he  as  much  to  offer  as  most?  He  assured 
himself  doggedly  that  he  loved  Harvard.  It  was 
a  "great  old  place," — beautiful  there  in  the  Yard! 
And  he  went  to  the  games  and  always  yelled  as  loud 
as  anybody — only,  somehow,  he  didn't  feel  as  if  he 
"belonged."  He  was  more  like  a  casual  stranger 
that  had  simply  bought  a  seat  and  was  politely  in 
terested  in  the  result.  What  the  devil  did  he  care 
who  won?  What  difference  did  it  make  to  him? 
Of  course  he  talked  a  whole  lot  like  the  other  fellows 
in  his  crowd  about  the  make-up  of  the  teams  and 
the  crews,  but  he  knew  well  that  they  were  aping  an 
enthusiasm  they  did  not  feel.  He  didn't  know  the 


70         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

players  or  oarsmen  themselves,  and,  even  if  Har 
vard  won,  he  would  not  have  the  privilege  of  slap 
ping  anybody  on  the  back.  No,  it  was  a  fake — this 
college  life !  So  feels  many  a  man  who  belongs  to 
what  might  be  called  "the  gray  zone,"  which  lies 
between  those  of  his  fellows  who  are  obviously  quali 
fied  and  those  who  are  as  obviously  unsuited  by 
personality  and  training  for  college  social  life.  There 
was  no  particular  reason  why  Tom  should  not  have 
received  the  recognition  which  he  craved.  He  was 
well-mannered,  attractive,  and  intelligent.  But 
he  had  been  fortuitously  excluded,  just  as  others 
more  fortunate  in  their  friends  had  been  left  out 
of  clubs  simply  because  there  was  no  room  for 
them. 

He  glanced  through  the  open  window  into  his 
room  with  its  hideous,  yellow  wall-paper,  its  big, 
ugly,  rusty  iron  stove,  and  the  grotesque  picture  of 
the  bird  made  of  "real  feathers"  that  he  had  hung 
so  as  to  cover  a  soiled  spot  over  the  sofa — and  the 
sofa  itself !  Horse-hair.  His  mother  had  suggested 
using  it  because  it  was  so  strong — and  perfectly  good 
—it  having  belonged  to  Miss  Fanny  Trollop — she 
that  weighed  three  hundred  pounds.  He  admitted 
that  the  room  certainly  was  not  much  to  look  at, 
nor  yet  to  live  in.  It  didn't  have  any  "atmosphere 
of  culture"  or  anything  else.  It  simply  looked  like 
a  bad  case  of  jaundice.  Tom's  disgust  grew  upon 
him.  He  wondered  who  had  fixed  up  Frank  True's 
room  for  him.  Somebody  had  spent  real  money 
on  it,  for  sure !  Those  big  leather  chairs  cost  some- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         71 

thing,  and  so  did  those  old  prints — four  or  five 
dollars  apiece  at  least.  He  decided  True  must  in 
reality  be  a  good  deal  of  a  snob  underneath.  Tom 
had  originally  nodded  to  him  just  out  of  pity,  so  to 
speak.  Of  course  you'd  speak  to  any  little  cuss 
who  had  a  withered  leg  in  an  iron  brace !  But  now, 
if  he  said  anything  to  True  the  latter  would  think 
he  was  trying  to  swipe  to  him !  He'd  jolly  well  leave 
True  alone,  he  would ! 

Tom  almost  immediately  had  a  chance  to  put  this 
resolution  into  practice,  for  Frank  came  hitching 
down  the  stairs  on  the  way  to  lunch. 

"Oh,  heUo,  'Irish'!"  he  caUed  out  cheerily. 
"Aren't  you  eating  to-day?" 

Tom  nodded  stiffly,  without  looking  at  him. 
True  was  puzzled. 

"Don't  you  feel  well?"  he  asked  sympathetically. 
"I  hope  my  playing  didn't " 

"I'd  thank  you  not  to  call  me  'Irish' !"  Tom  sud 
denly  blazed  forth.  "That's  not  my  name— under 
stand?" 

In  truth  this  was  the  merest  pretext  for  giving 
vent  to  his  annoyance  with  life  in  general,  for 
"Irish"  had  been  his  nickname  at  school,  and  as 
"Irish"  he  was  known  to  all  his  associates. 

True's  sensitive  mouth  quivered,  and  he  turned 
first  white  and  then  a  deep  red. 

"Oh—  he  stammered,  tears  coming  into  his 
eyes.  "Oh,  Kelly !  I'm  terribly  sorry.  I  wouldn't 
have  said  anything  to  hurt  your  feelings  for  the 
world.  I  supposed  you  didn't  mind  being  called 


72          THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

that.  So  many  fellows  like  nicknames — it  seems 
more  friendly." 

"  Well,  I  do  mind  it !"  snapped  Tom  and  abruptly 
arose  and  re-entered  his  room,  leaving  True  on  the 
steps. 

He  made  himself  a  cup  of  hot  chocolate  over  the 
gas-lamp  on  the  wooden  wash-stand  and,  having 
eaten  half  a  dozen  soda-crackers,  began  to  feel  better. 
Presently,  in  fact,  he  felt  even  better  than  usual. 
The  omission  of  a  Memorial  Hall  luncheon  is  cal 
culated  to  encourage  the  gastro-intestinal  tract  and 
in  addition  Tom  had  the  recuperative  powers  of 
perfect  health.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  in 
fact  treated  Peters  somewhat  shabbily  the  night 
before  and  that  he  ought  to  go  and  set  himself 
right.  After  that  he  would  attend  the  lecture  on 
English  literature  over  in  Sever  Eleven. 

In  the  bright,  lifegiving  sunshine,  Tom  strolled 
down  the  Yard  under  the  spreading  elms  toward 
the  old  stone  building  at  the  lower  end,  known  as 
Weld  Hall,  where  Peters  had  his  room.  There 
were  few  people  about,  as  it  was  not  yet  two  o'clock 
—nearer  half  past  one,  in  fact — so  that  he  could  not 
help  noticing  a  young  girl  in  a  dark-blue  dress  who 
was  carrying  a  violin-case.  She  was  crossing  the 
Yard  diagonally  and  Tom,  quite  naturally,  slack 
ened  his  pace  so  that  their  paths  might  converge 
near  Massachusetts  Hall.  He  could  not  have 
explained  why  he  slowed  up  to  see  what  the  girl  in 
blue  was  like  any  more  than  a  puppy  could  explain 
why  he  turns  around  a  couple  of  times  before  he 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS   KELLY         73 

lies  down.  Wonderful — the  exuberant  spirit  of 
youth!  Here  was  Tom  tingling  to  the  primordial 
instinct  of  man  when  but  an  hour  before  he  had 
been  groaning  upon  the  bed  of  pain!  And  since 
the  young  woman  was  totally  unconscious  of  his 
approach,  his  manoeuvre  was  entirely  successful 
and  they  came  abruptly  face  to  face. 

She  was  nearly  as  tall  as  Tom  and  very  slender, 
and  her  skin  had  a  rich  golden  tone  which  softened 
the  brilliant,  even  startling,  color  of  her  cheeks. 
She  had  evidently  been  thinking,  for  she  raised  her 
eyes  suddenly  and  looked  straight  into  his  without 
seeming  to  know  that  he  was  there.  Aware  of  his 
presence,  she  first  gave  him  a  look  of  half -recognition, 
and,  then,  as  if  she  had  found  herself  in  error,  blushed 
slightly  and  hurried  on.  Tom  had  a  strange  feeling 
of  having  seen  those  eyes  before — he  could  not 
imagine  where.  He  found  that  his  heart  was  throb 
bing  quite  excitedly.  It  was  a  piquant,  alluring 
face,  full  of  flickering  lights  and  shadows.  With  a 
sensation  of  almost  physical  pain  he  watched  her 
disappear  around  the  corner  of  the  building.  As 
she  did  so  he  fancied  that  she,  too,  looked  back.  He 
felt  sure  somehow  that,  in  a  previous  state  of  exist 
ence  perhaps,  he  had  known  this  tantalizing  young 
person.  And  she  too,  evidently,  had  been  under  a 
similar  impression.  Dejectedly  he  walked  on. 

The  door  of  Peters's  room  was  unlocked  and 
Andy  himself  was  stretched  out  on  the  window-seat 
smoking  a  cigar  and  reading  a  paper-covered  book, 
which  he  tossed  aside  ostentatiously  as  Tom  entered. 


74    THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"What  you  got  there?"  asked  Tom,  examining 
the  title  with  respect,  it  being  in  French — De- 
Maupassant's  "Mon  Ami."  Peters  yawned,  a 
trifle  less  cordial  than  usual. 

"You  sort  of  welched  on  me  last  night,  didn't 
you?"  he  inquired.  "Have  a  cigar?"  And  as 
Tom  shook  his  head  he  laughed  and  added:  "You 
do  look  a  bit  squiffy." 

"It  wasn't  that,"  explained  Tom,  sitting  down 
on  the  window-seat.  "The  fact  of  the  matter  was 
I  had  such  a  grouch  on  I  wasn't  fit  to  go  around 
with  anybody.  I  felt  like  a  killjoy.  I'm  sorry  I 
went  back  on  you.  That's  why  I  came  over." 

"  Oh,  forget  it ! "  said  Peters.  "  I  was  just  as  glad 
you  didn't  come  along !" 

His  tone,  slightly  superior,  nettled  his  guest. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Tom  demanded. 

"You  lost  your  nerve — that  was  plain  enough!" 
retorted  Peters.  "And  I  don't  purpose  to  be  re 
sponsible  for  any  one  else's  morals." 

The  accuracy  of  Peters's  diagnosis  was  so  obvious 
that  it  left  Tom  without  rejoinder.  He  had  lost  his 
nerve.  Though  he  no  longer  believed  in  a  red-hot 
hell,  he  regarded  the  moral  code  of  his  mother  and 
of  her  church  as  of  divine  origin.  The  Bible  had 
plenty  to  say  about  the  scarlet  woman  and  wine- 
bibbers — among  whom  were  probably  included 
drinkers  of  musty  ale.  But  there  was  a  difference 
between  drinking  a  trifle  more  than  was  good  for 
the  digestion  and  actual  drunkenness.  Drunken 
ness  was  sinful.  Musty  ale  was — well,  excusable. 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY         75 

You  might  have  a  slight  mental  reservation  in 
accepting  all  the  horrible  consequences  prophesied 
as  certain  to  fall  upon  those  who  broke  the  law  as 
contained  in  Holy  Writ,  but  something  would  surely 
happen  to  you — whatever  or  whenever  it  might  be. 
But  of  course  if  there  was  some  mysterious  way  of 
indulging  in  sinful  pleasures  without  future  retribu 
tion,  why ! 

"Well,"  he  answered  stubbornly,  and  lighting  his 
pipe  for  moral  support,  "supposing  I  did — lose  my 
nerve?" 

Peters  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  in  polite  dep 
recation  of  any  possible  criticism  from  him. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied  with  condescension.  "  Only 
— I  thought  you  were  more  of  a  man  of  the  world." 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'm  enough  of  a  man  of  the  world,  all 
right,"  defiantly  answered  Tom.  Then,  lowering  his 
voice  as  if  imparting  a  mysterious  secret:  "I'm  not 
such  a  'stick  in  the  mud'  as  you  might  think !"  He 
didn't  know  himself  what  he  meant  by  these  words 
exactly.  But  they  sounded  significant  even  if  vague. 

Peters  said  nothing. 

"Only,"  floundered  on  Tom,  "I  like  to  get  the 
other  fellow's  ideas  and — and — that  sort  of  thing, 
first.  Don't  you  suppose  a  chap  has  got  to  pay  for 
his  good  time — later  on?" 

Peters  looked  at  Tom  through  lowered  eyelids, 
thinking  to  himself  what  a  holy  innocent  this  big 
boy  was. 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

Tom  hesitated. 


76         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Of  course,  you  understand,  I  don't  believe  in 
hell — that  is  the  regular  kind  of  old-fashioned  hell. 
But  I  do  believe  in  a  hereafter — don't  you?"  He 
looked  expectantly  at  Peters. 

"I  don't  believe  in  any  ' hereafter'  any  more  than 
I  believe  in  any  hell,"  answered  the  latter  shortly. 
"In  fact — to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  don't  believe 
in  anything — except  science.  Old  Darwin  put  the 
kibosh  on  all  religious  rot!"  Peters  stretched  his 
legs  comfortably.  "You  don't  go  on  swallowing 
Jonah  and  the  whale,  do  you?  Or  believe  that 
Joshua  just  crossed  his  fingers  and  made  the  sun 
standstill?  WeU? 

"God — so  far  as  there  is  any  such  thing — and 
nature  are  one  and  the  same.  Of  course  you  suffer 
for  violating  nature's  laws.  You  drank  too  much 
musty  last  night,  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes.  But 
you've  paid  already  for  that  enormity.  You've 
got  the  receipt  for  it  in  your  pocket.  You  don't 
suppose  that  besides  having  a  headache  now  you 
are  going  to  get  soaked  over  again,  at  the  Day  of 
Judgment?" 

"N— n— no !"  admitted  Tom. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  be  happy  you'd  better  not. 
Your  health's  your  own,  isn't  it?  If  I  want  to  dis 
sipate  a  little  and  am  willing  to  pay  for  it,  it's  no 
body's  business  but  my  own,  is  it?  Why,  it's  all  so 
simple,  when  you  look  at  it  that  way !" 

"But  the  Bible—"  interrupted  Tom  nervously. 

"The  Bible!  Poppycock!  Do  you  pay  any 
attention  to  what  the  Koran  says?  Or  the  Book  of 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         77 

Mormon  ?  Well,  there's  millions  of  intelligent  people 
believe  in  them.  And  they  both  say  you  can  have  as 
many  wives  as  you  can  pay  for !" 

"All  the  same—  "  began  Tom  again 

"The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you  haven't  studied 
these  things/7  went  on  Peters  now  fully  aroused  to 
the  delights  of  proselyting.  "You  talk  like  an  old 
woman.  You've  got  to  get  your  head  clear  of  all 
this  Bible  stuff.  You've  got  to  start  fair.  This 
religious  business  is  bunk.  Why  this  very  college 
is  Unitarian.  Well,  what's  that  but  free  thinking? 
'  Every  wise  man  believes  the  same  thing,  but  no 
wise  man  ever  tells  what  it  is. '  You  know  what  it 
is — l  nothing?  Ha — ha !  As  soon  as  you  find  out — 
what  every  scientific  man  knows — that  the  only 
suffering  in  store  for  you  is  what  you  get  right  here 
and  now,  and  that  nobody  is  going  to  stand  up  at 
the  last  great  day  and  tell  the  angels  all  about 
you  through  a  brass  trumpet — why  then  you  can 
go  off  and  have  a  good  time  once  in  a  while  without 
worrying  about  it,  because  a  bit  of  that  sort  of  thing 
doesn't  hurt  anybody.  A  little  dissipation  is  a  good 
thing!  Isn't  the  world — isn't  literature  full  of  the 
joys  of  '  wine,  women,  and  song'  ?  You've  outgrown 
Sunday-school,  Tommy,  my  boy.  'The  devil  is 
dead'!" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  get  your  point  of  view,"  said 
Tom.  "I  don't  see  why  they  don't  give  courses  in 
these  things.  It  seems  a  whole  lot  more  important 
than  studying  about  the  l Romantic  Movement.' " 

Peters  laughed. 


78         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"If  they  told  you  the  truth,  they'd  tell  you  the 
same  as  I  do.  People  aren't  frank  about  these 
things.  You  can't  reconcile  science  and  the  dogmas 
of  Christian  theology.  But,  don't  let  me  influence 
you.  I'd  hate  to  feel  I'd  helped  send  any  one  to 
1  hell.'  Just  think  it  over  for  yourself." 

There  was  nothing  wilfully  offensive  about 
Peters' s  expression  of  his  beliefs.  If  he  were  right- 
it  would  certainly  roll  a  huge  burden  of  responsi 
bility  off  one's  shoulders.  Peters  made  God  seem 
like  an  "Old  Man  of  the  Sea."  He  wondered  if  he 
could  bring  himself  to  such  a  state  of  mind,  in  which 
he  wouldn't  have  to  think  whether  he  was  doing 
right  or  wrong,  so  long  as  he  was  ready  to  take  the 
immediate  consequences.  It  filled  him  with  a 
strange  and  unholy  excitement.  He  even  pictured 
himself  as  becoming  quite  a  devil,  and  had  a  sneak 
ing  desire  to  get  points  from  Peters — "First  Steps  in 
Deviltry,"  so  to  speak.  But  he  was  already  late 
for  his  English  lecture,  as  it  was. 

"Well,  so  long !"  he  said,  pausing  in  the  doorway 
to  adjust  his  cap.  "We  must  go  in  town  together 
again  some  night  soon — and  stay  later ! " 


VI 


THE  hour  was  half  over  before  Tom  reached  Sever 
Hall  and  tiptoed  to  his  seat;  and  Mr.  Russell,  the 
lecturer,  was  already  finishing  what  he  had  to  say 
about  George  Meredith.  This  instructor  was  popu 
lar  with  the  students  for  the  simple  and  modest 
manner  in  which  he  lectured,  for  his  whimsical 
humor,  and  for  the  unconventional  way  in  which  he 
expressed  his  opinions  quite  fearlessly  on  any  sub 
ject  that  suggested  itself.  Russell's  colleagues  usu 
ally  spoke  of  him  rather  deprecatingly  as  "  brilliant, 
of  course — but  erratic/7  while  in  Cambridge  generally 
he  was  regarded  as  something  of  a  "character." 
He  was  a  lank,  loose- jointed  man  with  a  face  bronzed 
by  golf  and  camping,  a  large  mouth  and  a  protrud 
ing  jaw  toward  which  bent  down  in  a  friendly  fashion 
a  long  crooked  nose  which  gave  the  face  its  look  of 
determination.  His  eyes  were  brown  and  sur 
rounded  by  tiny  wrinkles,  and  his  whole  countenance 
was  creased  with  fine  lines,  all  of  which  contributed 
to  the  quizzical  smile  that  seemed  to  come  and  go 
of  its  own  accord,  and  when  least  expected. 

The  eyes  of  the  instructor  looked  off  into  space  for 
a  moment  or  two  as  he  turned  over  the  pages  in  his 
note-book,  and  each  student  selected  a  fresh  sheet 
of  paper  and  prepared  to  take  down  what  Mr. 

79 


8o         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Russell  should  say  concerning  the  next  author  on 
their  list  of  subjects.  But  the  lecturer,  with  an 
apologetic  smile,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
glanced  contemplatively  around  the  room  at  the  two 
hundred  expectant  faces  uplifted  to  his. 

"I've  been  thinking,"  said  he  thoughtfully,  "that 
the  trouble  with  us  professorial  folk  is  that  most  of 
us  forget  that  our  own  particular  subject  isn't  the 
axis  of  education.  In  my  own  case  the  temptation 
to  do  this  is  especially  dangerous,  since  literature  is 
nothing  but  the  reflection — of  human  life.  You 
come  to  college  to  be  educated,  but  the  only  value  of 
education  is  to  learn  how  to  live." 

He  hesitated,  and  the  familiar  smile  hovered  about 
his  mouth  for  a  brief  moment.  "Come  to  think  of 
it,  I  don't  recall  at  the  moment  any  particular  elec 
tive  that  is  devoted  to  that  subject.  Sometime 
perhaps—  Well,  literature,  in  one  way  or  another, 
records  the  various  answers  given  by  the  thinkers 
of  all  ages  to  the  question  of  what  life  is  all  about 
and  how  it  can  best  be  lived.  And  in  proportion 
as  those  answers  help  the  race  to  live,  literature  is 
really  vital — not  otherwise.  Unless  it  helps  us  to 
see  the  true  value  of  things  and  their  relative  im 
portance,  it  is  harmful.  'What  profiteth  it  a  man 
if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul'  ?  " 

Mr.  Russell  seemed  almost  to  be  talking  to  him 
self.  Don't  set  one  branch  of  knowledge  above  an 
other — for  'knowledge  is  knowledge' — and  mere 
culture  is  nothing  without  a  philosophy — a  religion 
— or  whatever  it  is  that  'men  live  by.'  Don't  make 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         81 

a  god  of  culture.  Don't,  in  studying  literature, 
lay  too  much  stress  upon  what  we  call  style — for 
style  is  only  the  form  and  not  the  substance,  and 
form  without  substance  is  nothing — nothing !" 

He  shook  his  head  dreamily.  Then  he  gave  an 
almost  inaudible  chuckle  and  opened  his  leather- 
bound  notes. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "having  solved  the  riddle  of 
the  universe  and  put  poor  old  Solomon  out  of 
business,  we  will  proceed  with  the  course.  Our 
next  author  is  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  There 
was  a  man  who  knew  how  to  live,  and  whose  style 
reflected  the  calm  courage  of  his  noble  soul.  I 
knew  him  well — over  in  Paris — at  Barbizon — we 
lived  for  a  while  in  the  same  cottage  and— 

A  boy  coughed  and  he  looked  up  suddenly  at  the 
clock.  "Five  minutes  after  three!  Dear  me! 
Well,  read  'Virginibus  Puerisque'  and  '  Memories  and 
Portraits/  particularly  the  essay  on  'The  Gentle 
man' — That  is  all  for  to-day." 

Tom  waited  until  most  of  the  class  had  swarmed 
out  of  the  hall  and  then  approached  the  lecturer, 
as  he  picked  up  his  notes,  and  looked  around  help 
lessly  for  his  hat.  Here,  by  a  marvellous  coincidence, 
was  just  the  man  he  was  looking  for  to  whom  he 
could  confide  all  his  troubles  and  perplexities — social 
and  ethical. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Russell,"  he  said,  "sometime 
would  you  mind  telling  me  what  books  I  could  read 
that  would  help  me  to — to — have  a  philosophy  of 
life — just  what  you  were  talking  about?" 


82         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Russell  paused — one  leg  on  the  floor  and  one  on 
the  platform.  There  was  a  deeply  troubled  look 
on  the  face  of  the  boy  speaking  to  him. 

"Delighted,"  he  answered  cheerily.  "Let's  see, 
what's  your  name?" 

"Kelly." 

Mr.  Russell  examined  a  heavy,  old-fashioned 
timepiece  and  smiled. 

"You  want  to  settle  everything  right  off,  I  sup 
pose?  That's  right!  Let's  see.  I'm  lecturing  at 
Radcliffe  at  four — why  not  come  and  have  a  cup  of 
tea  about  five  o'clock  ?  I  live  over  on  Appian  Way 
— you'll  find  it  easy  enough." 

"Oh,  thank  you  very  much,  sir !"  cried  Tom  grate 
fully.  "It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  bother  about 


me." 


Mr.  Russell  gazed  at  him  quizzically. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  think  I'm  here  for  any 
way  ?    To  make  money  ?  " 

Tom  became  deeply  embarrassed.    "Oh,  no ! ' 

he  stammered. 

"No,"  went  on  the  instructor.     "I'm  here  try 
ing  to  find  out  how  to  wiggle  along  myself." 


VII 

THE  Russell  house  on  Appian  Way  stood  a  few 
feet  behind  a  white  picket  fence  in  which  there  hung 
a  gate  fastened  by  a  leather  loop.  Tom  found  that 
to  get  in  you  first  unhooked  this  loop,  pushed  back 
the  gate,  and  then  used  a  brass  knocker.  If  nothing 
happened  you  knocked  again — louder;  then  you 
heard  a  grunt  and  the  lecturer  himself  opened  the 
door,  smoking  a  pipe  and  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

"Come  in!  Glad  to  see  you!"  he  held  out  a 
knotty,  brown  hand  and  dragged  Tom  in. 

The  house  was  a  queer,  chopped-up  little  place, 
with  tiny  rooms,  low  ceilings,  and  the  floors  on  differ 
ent  levels,  as  if  built  at  various  architectural  epochs, 
but  it  was  flooded  with  sunshine  and  full  of  warm 
chintz  and  bright-colored  rugs.  On  the  right  of 
the  diminutive  entrance-hall  was  a  small  library 
lined  from  floor  to  ceiling  with  books,  in  which, 
although  it  was  late  April,  a  bright  wood-fire 
was  blazing.  On  the  mantel  lay  a  row  of  black 
ened  pipes,  an  old  collie  dog  snoozed  audibly  on  a 
threadbare  sheepskin  rug  before  the  fireplace,  and 
in  the  window  stood  a  desk  piled  high  with  blue 
pamphlets,  manuscripts,  papers  of  all  kinds  and 
stacks  of  volumes  between  which  were  thrust 
"spills"  or  lighters  made  of  newspaper  for  markers. 

83 


84         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

There  was  a  rich  odor  of  tobacco  and  crumbling 
leather  everywhere,  an  omnipresent  sense  of  com 
fort;  and  Tom  noticed,  as  Russell  forced  him  down 
into  a  big  leather  chair,  that  his  host  had  on  car 
pet  slippers.  Having  offered  his  visitor  his  choice  of 
a  pipe,  the  professor  threw  himself  into  another 
equally  large  armchair  on  the  other  side  of  the 
collie  and  examined  Tom  with  good-natured  in 
terest. 

•"I  believe  you  wanted  to  find  out  what  it  was  all 
about,  eh?  You  probably  thought  from  my  dis 
jointed  outburst  this  p.  M.  you  had  run  bump  into 
Marcus  Aurelius?  Well,  you  haven't.  However— 
what's  troubling  you?" 

There  was  something  so  kindly,  so  cheery,  so 
hospitable  about  this  lanky  pipe  smoker  that  Tom's 
heart  warmed  to  him  almost  as  to  a  father.  Yet, 
at  the  same  time,  he  had  a  sudden  feeling  of  em 
barrassment  at  the  idea  of  complaining  about  his 
lot  to  one  who  really  didn't  seem  to  have  very  much 
more  himself,  yet  who  regarded  life  with  such  huge 
content.  Moreover,  his  ethical  problems  in  that 
peaceful,  happy  atmosphere,  appeared  curiously 
speculative  and  theoretical.  He  couldn't  imagine 
his  host  ever  having  any  desire  to  do  those  dubious 
things  which  Peters  alleged  that  everybody  did— 
or  having  any  question  in  his  mind  as  to  why  he 
should  pursue  one  rather  than  another  particular 
course  of  conduct.  He  did  not  appreciate  either 
how  fully  Russell  realized  that  youth  is  the  age  of 
fiery  temptation,  that  it  is  natural  that  youth  should 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         85 

wish  to  be  assured  that  self-restraint  is  the  ordained 
law  of  life,  that  youth  is  the  age  of  doubt,  self- 
consciousness,  introspection,  egotism.  Russell  knew 
that  the  same  impulse  animated  Tom  in  seeking  his 
advice  as  had  animated  those  hundreds  of  other 
young  men  who  had  entered  that  same  room,  seated 
themselves  in  that  same  big  leather  chair,  and — 
puffed  from  that  same  old  black  brier  pipe.  He 
knew  that  that  impulse  was  essentially  selfish. 
They  all  wanted  to  know  the  same  two  things;  why 
they  ought  to  behave  themselves — and  why  they 
didn't  have  more  fun  in  college ! 

He  could  have  told  Tom  exactly  what  was  worry 
ing  him  had  he  chosen  to  do  so,  but  he  waited  with 
a  courteously  expectant  manner  as  if  his  visitor 
were  undoubtedly  about  to  propound  some  wholly 
novel  and  vitally  suggestive  problem.  As  Tom  ap 
peared  to  find  it  difficult  to  begin,  he  endeavored  to 
give  him  a  start  in  what  he  knew  to  be  the  desired 
direction. 

"I  suppose  you're  a  bit  groggy  from  the  new 
ideas  you've  had  thrown  at  you  out  here?"  he  ven 
tured.  "  We  all  go  through  it.  You're  not  the  only 
one.  I  was  in  a  very  upset  state  at  one  time  myself. 
But  the  curious  part  of  it  all  is  that  as  you  go  along 
the  problems  tend  to  settle  themselves — every  new 
experience  of  actual  life  sheds  some  light  on  what 
has  appeared  a  dark  subject,  and  by  and  by  the 
shadows  are  all  driven  away  and  there  aren't  any 
problems  left." 

"Yes,"  answered  Tom,  finding  his  tongue  at  last. 


86         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"But  at  first  they're  pretty  black — there's  a  sort 
of  chaos  in  a  fellow's  brain  and  nothing  left  to 
hang  on  to!" 

Mr.  Russell  nodded  sympathetically. 

"In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  that  sort  of  thing  is  due 
to  discontent.  A  fellow  that's  fully  occupied  and 
happy  hasn't  much  time  to  bother  about  ethics. 
His  instinct  tells  him  what's  right  and  what's  wrong 
— and  that's  the  end  of  it  for  him.  But  the  chap 
who  is  down  on  his  luck  begins  to  wonder  whether 
he  hasn't  got  some  fun  coming  to  him  in  directions 
that  he's  always  been  taught  to  steer  clear  of — to 
ask  himself  why  he  shouldn't  cut  out  and  have  a 
good  time — just  as  if  there  were  no  '  ten  command 
ments,  and  a  man  could  raise  a  thirst.'  Now,  if 
you'll  pardon  me,  I'll  hazard  the  guess  that  you're 
unhappy  about  something." 

Tom  flushed,  perceiving  that  his  host  had  diag 
nosed  his  case  with  psychological  accuracy.  In 
stantly  he  responded  to  the  genial  encouragement 
of  the  other  to  constitute  him  a  father  confessor. 

"Yes,"  he  admitted,  "I  am."  Already  his 
grudge  against  life  had  begun  to  take  on  a 
strangely  petty  aspect.  He  was  almost  ashamed 
to  go  on. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  Russell's  voice  was  like 
an  arm  thrown  around  Tom's  shoulder. 

"I— I'm  lonely!"  the  lad  burst  out,  his  eyes  fill 
ing  with  tears. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  responded  Russell.  "How 
curious ! 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         87 

'The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things, 
I  think  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings!" 

"No,"  said  Tom,  "it  isn't  that.  I'm  a  sort  of 
left-over.  I  can't  seem  to  get  to  know  the  best 
fellows." 

"Which  are  the  best  fellows?" 

"I  mean  the  popular  ones — that  everybody  likes ! 
I  don't  know  any  of  them.  And  I  haven't  any  way 
to  get  to  know  them.  I'd  like  to  join  a  club,  but  I 
won't  have  the  chance.  I  feel  left  out — that's  the 
long  and  short  of  it." 

"Well,"  answered  Russell,  "I  don't  suppose  you 
expect  to  make  a  career  of  society?" 

"Hardly,"  said  Tom  with  such  grimness  that 
Russell  could  not  help  laughing. 

"Look  here!"  remarked  his  host  with  sudden 
severity.  "I  guess  I'll  have  to  give  you  a  regular 
talking  to !  You  promise  not  to  mind  ?  Take 
another  pipe  of  tobacco.  The  fact  is  that  your 
point  of  view  is  all  cock-eyed.  Here  you  are, 
healthy,  strong,  sound  as  a  drum  in  every  way — 
eating  like  a  river-horse,  I'll  bet — with  enough  vi 
tality  in  you  to  drag  a  horse-car — life  all  before  you — 
all  its  richest  experiences  ahead — with  four  years  of 
extraordinary  opportunity  at  your  elbow — com 
plaining — growling,  pardon  me — because  you  don't 
happen  to  know  a  few  dozen  men  who  have  elected 
each  other  into  what  they  call  a  'club.'  Don't  you 
see  what  an  absurdity  it  is  ?  How  you  overempha 
size  a  fact  of  only  the  most  trivial  importance? 


88         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

You've  come  out  here,  presumably,  to  get  an  educa 
tion — to  be  '  brought  out'  of  yourself — to  learn  what 
you  are  and  how  to  get  along  in  this  great  flux  that 
we  call  the  world.  Well,  you  don't  expect  this 
university — which  is  a  part  of  the  world — to  be 
different  from  the  rest  of  it,  do  you  ?  Or,  if  so,  why 
do  you?  If  you  were  living  in  New  York  or  Boston 
would  you  expect  the  Four  Hundred  to  take  you  to 
their  bosoms?  Of  course  not!  You  haven't  any 
more  right  to  be  taken  into  a  club  her e  than  you  have 
there.  You're  like  the  fellow  that  thinks  because 
he's  been  born  a  member  of  the  human  race  he  ought 
to  be  given  a  fur  overcoat  and  a  package  of  meal 
tickets.  You've  got  to  pull  your  weight — here  and 
outside.  You  have  to  take  life  as  you  find  it.  You 
have  no  right  to  demand  anything,  and  you  ought 
to  be  thankful  for  everything  you've  got.  Do  you 
realize  that  you  cost  the  college  about  three  times 
what  you  pay  in  tuition  fees?  That  you're  an 
object  of  charity?" 

"No — I  had  no  idea  of  it!"  answered  Tom  in 
genuine  surprise. 

"Well,  it's  true!"  retorted  his  host.  "You're 
getting  something  for  nothing  and  you  owe  a  debt 
of  honor  to  the  men  who  have  gone  before  you  and 
made  your  present  educational  opportunities  possi 
ble.  That's  what  it  means  to  be  admitted  into 
'The  Fellowship  of  Educated  Men.'  Some  dead 
man  has  paid  your  entrance-fee!  And  it's  a  deal 
better  than  getting  into  any  social  club,  where  like 
as  not  all  you'd  do  would  be  to  lie  around  and  tell 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         89 

stories  or  play  cards.  You  ought  to  be  thinking 
about  what  you  can  do  for  the  university,  not  about 
whether  you're  getting  every  last  thing  that  is  com 
ing  to  you  out  of  the  college ! " 

"  That's  true,  too !"  said  Tom  rather  sheepishly. 

"Of  course  it's  hard  to  see  other  fellows  having 
what  you  imagine  is  a  high  old  time  while  you're 
being  left  out.  But  you're  going  to  see  that  all  your 
life.  You've  got  to  begin  by  draining  the  jealousy 
out  of  your  system  if  you  expect  to  be  happy.  And 
then  you've  got  to  make  up  your  mind  what  you 
want  out  of  life — and  go  after  it.  Do  you  want  to 
go  around  with  a  lot  of  rich  men?  Do  you  want  a 
yacht  and  a  palace  at  Newport?" 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  mind,"  said  Tom  with  a  forced 
laugh. 

The  rugged  face  of  his  mentor  grew  stern. 

"If  they  came  in  the  ordinary  course — were  in 
cidents  in  a  useful  life — well  enough  perhaps.  But 
let  me  tell  you  something !  The  law  of  life  is  strug 
gle — change — development!  Man  finds  his  highest 
happiness  in  activity,  achievement,  creative  work, 
self-expression.  The  idle  have  no  true  happiness. 
Those  who  seek  happiness  never  find  it  except  in 
so  far  as  they  work  for  it.  As  my  friend  James  over 
on  Harvard  Street  says :  '  It  isn't  what  we  have,  but 
what  we  are.'  The  silver  cup  a  fellow  gets  for 
winning  a  race  isn't  anything  in  itself.  It's  only  a 
symbol.  It  shows  he's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  that  can 
win  a  race.  And  it's  the  same  way  with  money  and 
material  possessions  of  all  sorts — valueless  except  so 


90        THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

far  as  they  are  the  indicia  of  service.  Forget  all 
about  your  religious,  theological,  and  ethical  specu 
lations  for  a  while  and  stick  to  that  idea.  God  has 
put  into  us  this  vital  spark  of  energy — to  labor — 
to  accomplish.  Go  to  it ! 

"Just  as  you  owe  this  old  college  a  debt  you  can 
never  repay  in  dollars,  so  you  owe  society  in  the 
larger  sense  a  still  greater  obligation.  Did  you  ever 
stop  to  think  of  what  you  owe  the  men  who  died  in 
the  Rebellion  ?  To  the  followers  of  science  who  have 
sacrificed  their  lives  for  your  physical  well-being— 
for,  in  fact,  the  very  continuance  of  your  life  ?  Why 
did  they  do  so  ?  In  response  to  that  instinct  within 
us  all — call  it  ' conscience'  or  what  you  will — that 
drives  us  on  to  struggle  for  the  betterment  of  the 
race — and  incidentally  to  find  in  that  struggle  our 
own  salvation " 

The  light  had  faded  from  the  windows  and  the 
fire  shone  upon  the  teacher's  angular  features,  giving 
them  a  new  and  striking  dignity.  He  bowed  his 
head  for  a  moment  and  seemed  lost  in  memory. 

A  log  in  the  fireplace  snapped  and  a  molten  globule 
of  incandescence  fell  upon  the  hearth.  The  collie 
sighed  deeply,  yawned,  stretched  his  fore  legs  and 
slowly  arose.  Then  he  pricked  his  ears  forward 
and  trotted  to  the  door.  There  was  the  sound  of  a 
latch-key  and  of  light  footsteps  in  the  hall 

"Well,  father!  Dreaming  as  usual?"  asked  a 
cheerful  voice. 

Mr.  Russell  started  and  looked  up. 

"  Hello,  sis !    You're  late,  aren't  you  ?    Come  in ! " 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY         91 

In  the  doorway  stood  the  girl  in  blue.  The 
shadows  cast  by  the  fire  upon  her  face  brought  out 
subtle  mysteries  of  line  and  curve  unrevealed  by  the 
afternoon  light  of  the  Yard.  Her  cheeks  had  flushed 
•rose-red  and  her  eyes,  though  still  laughing,  were 
clouded  with  a  sudden  touch  of  embarrassment. 
She  stood  poised  upon  the  threshold,  one  arm  resting 
against  the  door  and  the  other  clasping  her  violin- 
case  to  her  breast. 

"My  daughter — Mr. — Mr. —  I  beg  your  par 
don,  what  did  you  say  your  name  was!"  asked 
Mr.  Russell  for  the  second  time. 

Tom  had  climbed  quickly  to  his  feet  and  stood 
staring  at  the  vision  in  the  doorway.  Shades  of 
the  Bacchante,  of  Diana,  of  Semiramis,  of — the 
Madonna !  It  was  she ! 

"Kelly!"  he  blurted  out,  his  muscles  atremble, 
"—Tom  Kelly." 

The  girl  smiled  and  nodded.  Then  unexpectedly 
she  knitted  her  brows  and  gave  him  a  long,  quizzi 
cal,  searching  look. 

"I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Tom  Kelly,"  she  said, 
"but  I've  met  you  before!" 

Her  voice  was  low  with  a  vibrant  quality  like  her 
father's. 

"You'll  never  guess  where !" 


VIII 

"No!"  challenged  the  girl  with  the  violin,  with 
difficulty  maintaining  her  position  in  the  door 
way  against  the  assaults  of  the  collie,  "you—  Get 
down,  Gerald ! — Down,  sir !—  You  don't  remem — 
Dad,  please  call  him  off!  Don't  you  remember 
'pew-teeth '  ?  " 

"Pew-teeth!" 

Through  the  dimming  firelight,  as  through  the 
mists  of  the  long-forgotten  past,  Tom  had  a  glimpse 
of  an  elfin,  childish  face  rising  unexpectedly  to  his 
over  the  high  back  of  a  mahogany  pew. 

"Evelyn !"  he  ejaculated. 

"That's  me ! "  she  laughed.  "Only  'how  you've 
grown!' " 

"What  gibberish  are  you  two  talking?"  inter 
rupted  Russell.  "'Pew-teeth  7  What  on  earth  are 
'pew-teeth'?" 

Evelyn  placed  her  violin-case  on  the  desk  and 
gave  Tom  her  hand. 

"Don't  you  remember,  dad — when  you  were 
teaching  in  the  high-school  in  Boston — how  we  went 
to  St.  Agnes's  and  I  used  to  climb  up  and  hang  by 
my  teeth  to  the  top  of  the  pew?" 

"Why,  yes !  So  you  did ! "  he  replied  with  a  remi 
niscent  laugh.  "And  you  called  'em  'pew- teeth' !" 

92 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         93 

"So  did  Mr.  Kelly— only  he  wasn't  Mr.  Kelly 
then,"  his  daughter  continued.  "We  used  to  be 
rivals  for  head  of  the  class  at  the  primary  school, 
too.  We've  known  each  other  ten  years  and  over ! 
Only  I  never  knew  his  full  name/'  she  added.  "He 
was  just  'Tom.' " 

The  tall  clock  in  the  hall  struck  six  at  that  moment. 

"If  you  expect  any  supper  to-night,  dad,"  she 
went  on,  "I'll  have  to  leave  you.  Eliza's  out  and 
it's  my  evening  in  the  kitchen." 

"Why  shouldn't  Mr.  Kelly  stop  and  take  pot-luck 
with  us?"  inquired  her  father. 

"He  should,  if  he's  willing  to  run  the  risk,"  an 
swered  Evelyn.  "He  can  have  canned  soup,  canned 
corned  beef,  canned  baked  beans,  canned  anything 
almost — except  canned  eggs  and  bacon.  I  believe 
I've  even  got  a  sausage  tucked  away  somewhere." 

"Well,  let's  go  out  and  have  a  look !"  said  Russell. 
"  Come  on,  and  inspect  the  larder!" 

Evelyn  led  the  way  to  a  spotless  pantry  con 
taining  a  dwarf  ice-chest,  the  door  of  which  Russell 
threw  open  with  an  assumption  of  voracity. 

"There's  that  sausage !"  he  announced.  "You're 
in  luck,  sir — only  it's  a  small  one.  I  generally  get 
away  with  half  a  dozen!  But  what's  all  this? 
Chops !  And  boiled  potatoes,  ready  for  frying ! 
And  why  shouldn't  I  step  over  to  the  baker's  and 
bring  home  a  pie?" 

"That's  a  good  little  dad !"  declared  his  daughter. 
"Get  a  real  old-fashioned  squash  pie — for  fifteen 
cents !  Don't  let  that  baker  give  you  a  stale  one, 


94         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

either !  He's  equal  to  it,  even  if  he  does  go  to  the 
Episcopal  Church  on  Brattle  Street!" 

In  what  seemed  to  Tom  an  incredibly  short  space 
of  time  he  was  invited  to  sit  down  in  the  Russell's 
white-painted  dining-room  to  a  meal  consisting 
of  soup,  scrambled  eggs  and  bacon  (including  the 
single  sausage  laid  out  in  royal  state),  broiled  chops 
and  fried  potatoes,  toast,  salad,  pie,  crackers,  cheese, 
and  coffee.  Evelyn  hovered  between  the  kitchen 
and  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  they  all 
waited  on  themselves. 

Tom's  acquaintance  with  women,  apart  from  his 
early  and  now  almost  forgotten  experiences  with  his 
mother's  female  relatives,  had  been  small.  From 
time  to  time  he  had  had  amatory  passages  with 
various  small  girls  in  the  summer  vacations,  which 
at  first  had  consisted  chiefly  in  showing  his  interest 
in  them  by  an  excessive  roughness  of  manner  and 
brusqueness  of  speech.  Later  on  his  imagination 
had  fallen  a  victim  to  one  or  two  unwholesome, 
hollow-eyed,  sentimental,  Bronte-like  young  ladies, 
to  whom  he  had  not  had  the  audacity  to  disclose 
his  feelings  and  whom  he  speedily  forgot. 

That  he  could  meet  a  wholly  natural  contemporary 
of  the  opposite  sex,  who  combined  the  beauty  of  a 
girl  out  of  a  portrait  by  Lawrence  or  Romney,  with 
the  vivacity,  charm,  and  good  sense  of  the  heroine 
of  a  novel,  seemed  incredible.  That  sort  of  thing  he 
had  supposed  was  reserved  for  fellows  who  lived  on 
Beacon  Street  or  Commonwealth  Avenue.  It  was 
too  good  to  be  real. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         95 

Tom  had  never  been  in  any  house  before  per 
vaded  by  such  an  atmosphere  of  gayety.  If  only 
his  own  home  had  been  like  that!  If  only  every 
home  could  be  like  it!  Everything  was  a  joke, 
and  somehow  whenever  Evelyn  spoke  she  seemed 
to  laugh — yet  without  laughing.  Tom  could  hardly 
keep  his  eyes  from  her  face.  Could  this  glorious 
young  person  be  the  little  elf  that  had  marched 
with  him  in  the  public  school? 

"Let  me  help,"  urged  Tom,  when  Evelyn  at  the 
end  of  the  meal  began  to  pile  up  the  dishes. 

"I'm  afraid  you'd  break  our  priceless  earthen 
ware,"  she  retorted.  "I  paid  fifteen  dollars  for 
one  hundred  and  twenty  pieces !" 

"  Let  her  alone ! "  admonished  her  father.  "  She'll 
probably  leave  them  for  Eliza  to  wash  up." 

But  Evelyn  did  nothing  of  the  kind  and  while 
she  washed  the  dishes  in  the  pantry,  Tom  and  Mr. 
Russell  from  where  they  sat  smoking  before  the 
library  fire  could  hear  her  singing. 

"She'll  never  let  anybody  else  wash  up  for  her," 
said  Tom's  host,  "and  there's  nothing  she  enjoys 
more  than  cooking  and  working  with  her  hands. 
We  all  do  really — if  we  give  ourselves  the  chance — 
it's  the  jack-knife  instinct  in  the  boy.  One  reason 
so  many  women  are  discontented  these  days,  in 
my  opinion,  is  because  they  are  deprived  of  the 
feeling  of  accomplishment!  They  never  do  any 
thing.  They  read  a  little,  walk  a  little,  and  eat 
and  talk  a  great  deal,  but  they  never  make  any 
thing  the  way  their  grandmothers  did.  And  as 


96         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  creative  instinct  is  the  strongest  element  in  our 
natures  they  must  necessarily  feel  the  lack  of  some 
thing  in  their  lives.  And  this  makes  them  first  un 
happy  and  then  disagreeable,  and  there  are  all  sorts 
of  domestic  difficulties." 

The  sound  of  the  knocker  at  the  front  door  in 
terrupted  what  might  otherwise  have  degenerated 
into  a  moral  discourse. 

"Hello  there!"  shouted  Russell  without  getting 
up  from  where  he  sat.  "Let  yourself  in!  'This 
ain't  no  grand  house' !" 

The  door  opened  and  Frank  True  hobbled  into 
the  hall  and  hung  up  his  cap. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Russell,"  he  said.  "I  hope 
I'm  not  too  early !" 

Then,  seeing  Tom,  he  held  out  his  hand  with  a 
shade  of  embarrassment.  "Why,  hello,  Kelly!" 

Tom,  feeling  very  much  ashamed  of  himself  for 
his  conduct  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  took  the  thin 
hand  in  a  warm,  strong  grasp. 

"Hello,  old  man!"  he  answered.  "I  acted  like 
a  chump  this  noon — hope  you'll  forgive  me.  I  had 
a  rotten  grouch!" 

"That's  aU  right!"  smiled  True.  "We  all  get 
those  fits  sometimes.  And  I  was  really  very  thought 
less.  Let's  forget  it.  Where's  Evelyn?" 

"Here  I  am!"  she  answered,  appearing  in  the 
doorway  with  her  violin.  "How  are  you,  Frank? 
It's  fine  to  have  you  come  over  this  way.  What 
do  you  say?  Shall  we  begin  our  concert  right  off? 
Come  along  to  the  music-room,  Mr.  Kelly." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY         97 

They  followed  her  through  a  door  leading  out 
of  the  dining-room  to  a  trellised  passage  connected 
with  a  small  house — evidently  once  used  for  the 
storage  of  wood  or  as  a  tool-shed.  Like  the  rest  of 
the  establishment  it  was  on  a  reduced  scale,  but 
the  floor  had  been  relaid  with  hard  pine,  and  the 
walls  freshly  painted.  At  one  end  stood  an  upright 
piano  and  beside  it  a  music-stand,  while  on  the  wall 
were  arranged  shelves  full  of  music.  A  few  easy 
chairs  and  a  table  with  a  jar  of  tobacco  gave  an 
air  of  hospitality  to  this  Temple  of  Arts. 

"Keep  your  pipe!"  directed  Russell.  "We  can 
open  the  window  if  necessary." 

It  was  evident  that  True  was  on  an  intimate 
footing  in  the  house  and  that  both  Evelyn  and  her 
father  were  very  fond  of  him,  and  now  as  the  girl 
tuned  her  fiddle  and  chatted  familiarly  to  the  crip 
pled  boy  at  the  piano  Tom  suddenly  experienced  a 
feeling  of  jealousy.  Was  it — could  it  be — possible 
that  this  beautiful  creature  could  be  in  love  with 
that  little  shrivelled  fellow  ?  How  her  eyes  sparkled 
when  she  talked  to  him !  And  they  seemed  to  have 
a  kind  of  language  of  their  own — a  language  incom 
prehensible  to  him — about  inversions,  chromatics, 
diminished  sevenths,  and  all  sorts  of  things  per 
taining  to  this  common  art,  that  made  him  feel 
more  left  out  than  ever.  Even  the  music  did  not 
sooth  his  growing  unhappiness.  He  had  found  the 
only  girl  in  the  world,  simply  to  lose  her  again! 
And  to  whom? 

Too  late !  thought  Tom. 


98         THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Evelyn  and  her  father  came  to  the  door  with 
them.  Overhead  the  sky  above  the  newly  budding 
elms  was  brilliant  with  low-hanging  stars,  scintillat 
ing  in  the  soft  humid  air.  The  subtle  mystery  of 
the  spring  night  was  all  about  them.  The  very 
earth  seemed  pregnant  with  the  possibilities  of  the 
future. 

"Good  night,  Frank!"  said  Russell  heartily,  as 
he  stood  by  the  picket  fence.  "Good  night,  Kelly. 
Come  around  as  often  as  you  like." 

Evelyn  gave  each  of  the  boys  her  hand  across 
the  gate. 

"Good-by,  Frank!    Good-by,  Mr.  Kelly!" 

The  distinction  was  like  a  knife  in  Tom's  soul. 
In  silence  the  two  Freshmen  walked  toward  the 
Yard. 

"Russell's  a  fine  chap !"  Tom  at  length  remarked. 

"He's  a  great — gentleman!"  responded  True, 
with  deep  enthusiasm. 

"And  Miss  Russell—"  began  Tom. 

"Kelly!"  cried  the  cripple  fervently,  "she's  the 
most  wonderful  girl  in  the  whole  world !" 

Tom  bit  his  lips  in  the  darkness.  It  was  true, 
then! 

At  the  entrance  of  Thayer  Hall  True  paused  in 
dragging  his  withered  leg  up  the  steps. 

"Say,  old  man!"  he  said  warmly,  "do  you 
mind  if  I  call  you  'Tom'?  Let's  be  friends — 
shall  we?" 

And  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"Why — sure!"   answered  our  hero,  but  in  the 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY         99 

darkness  of  the  shadows  cast  by  the  great  trees 
the  other  could  not  see  his  rather  bitter  smile.  It 
was  all  part  of  the  same  luck.  He  had  been  left 
out  again — that  was  all. 


IX 


THE  influences  moulding  Tom  Kelly's  character 
during  the  next  three  years  were  as  varied  as  in  the 
case  of  most  collegians.  At  Mr.  Russell's  sugges 
tion  he  took  a  course  or  two  in  ethics  and  philoso 
phy,  attended  the  lectures  of  James  and  Royce, 
and  if  he  did  not  succeed  in  crystallizing  his  own 
ideas  on  these  subjects  he  at  least  came  to  recognize 
the  fact  that  there  was  more  in  the  unknown  than 
Peters  would  have  had  him  believe.  At  any  rate,  he 
steered  straight,  and  escaped  many  of  the  incidents 
of  a  collegian's  career  that  prove  a  profound  regret  in 
after-life.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two  Tom  remained, 
as  he  had  started,  a  clean,  straightforward  fellow 
—of  simple  and  frugal  tastes — who  was  trying 
moderately  hard  to  do  well  at  his  studies  and  who, 
in  spite  of  the  excellent  reasoning  of  Mr.  Russell, 
was  wretchedly  disappointed  at  the  lack  of  recogni 
tion  he  received  from  his  classmates.  There  did 
not  seem  to  be  any  means  available  by  which  he 
could  make  new  friends.  He  would  now  have  readily 
gone  more  than  half-way,  but  no  way  presented  it 
self.  With  the  exception  of  the  fellows  he  occa 
sionally  met  in  True's  room,  he  revolved  'round  and 
'round — like  the  "  Devil  among  the  Tailors,"  he  told 

100 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  REI>Iy¥,    ici 

himself — in  the  same  old  crowd  of  Holden,  Cryder, 
Ricker,  J.  Walton-Smith,  and  Peters. 

More  and  more — except  for  the  Russells — his 
college  life  seemed  but  a  vain  repetition  of  lectures, 
examinations,  and  Sundays  in  Boston.  Unques 
tionably  it  was  dull.  Unquestionably  he  was  not 
given  the  chance  to  make  friends  among  his  own 
classmates  offered  to-day  by  the  admirable  system 
of  Freshman  dormitories.  Twenty  years  ago  things 
were  different  and  Tom  may  have  had  some  cause 
to  complain  that  the  college  world  was  by  no  means 
an  ideal  democracy.  Thus  for  three  years  he  lived 
—largely  on  the  surface-cars  between  Cambridge 
and  his  home  in  Boston — almost  as  a  sort  of  day- 
scholar  or  boarder  at  the  university,  the  victim  of 
a  constant  sense  of  exclusion  which  caused  an 
abiding  resentment  in  his  soul  and  a  touch  of  grim 
defiance  in  his  manner  toward  his  associates.  And 
then,  by  what  seemed  the  merest  accident,  in  the 
spring  of  his  junior  year  all  was  changed  and  a 
new  world  opened  before  his  eyes. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  'Irish'!  How'd  you  do 
that?" 

Joe  Cryder  waved  helplessly  at  a  ball  which, 
coming  apparently  straight  from  Tom's  racket, 
had,  on  striking  the  court,  jumped  outward  and 
upward  at  an  utterly  absurd  and  impossible  angle. 
"Nobody  could  get  a  serve  like  that!"  he  yelled 
in  disgust,  racing  in  pursuit  of  the  ball  which  had 
rolled  half-way  across  Jarvis  field. 


102       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  answered  Tom.  "I 
just  stumbled  onto  it.  It  isn't  difficult.  You  hold 
your  racket  like  that,  and  serve  with  a  right  hand, 
instead  of  a  left  hand,  cut.  Try  it." 

He  picked  the  ball  up  easily  with  his  racket  and 
tossed  it  to  Cryder.  His  short-sleeved  shirt  with 
rolling  collar  open  at  the  neck,  and  his  duck  trousers 
belted  tight  around  his  waist,  displayed  to  ad 
vantage  the  lithe  grace  of  his  muscular  figure. 

"I  couldn't  do  it  to  save  my  neck,"  protested 
Cryder.  "Do  it  again,  will  you?" 

Tom  took  the  ball  in  his  left  hand  and,  tossing 
it  high  in  air,  waited  calmly  for  it  to  reach  a  selected 
spot  in  its  descent,  and  then  delivered  a  smashing 
blow,  striking  it  about  eighteen  inches  above  his 
head.  A  peculiar  phenomenon  occurred.  The  ball, 
instead  of  pursuing  a  direct  course  across  the  net, 
shot  like  a  cannon-ball  in  a  swift  curve  to  the  left, 
struck  the  ground  with  a  terrific  impact  and  bounded 
at  an  acute  angle  in  quite  the  opposite  direction, 
whirring  like  a  partridge  and  assuming  a  grotesque 
egg  shape. 

"It  is  funny,  isn't  it?"  admitted  Tom  with  mod 
esty.  "I  only  got  hold  of  it  by  accident.  But  any 
body  could  do  it." 

Cryder  shook  his  head. 

"Don't  you  be  a  fool,  ' Irish/"  he  admonished. 
"You  keep  that  serve  to  yourself — absolutely  under 
your  shirt,  see? — and  you'll  be  able  to  beat  any 
body  you  run  up  against.  You  know  7  almost  got 
into  the  class  semi-finals  last  spring  and  I  can't 


THE   WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY       103 

touch  that  serve  at  all !  And  you  can  do  it  every 
time!  Have  you  entered,  yet?" 

"Yes,  I  put  my  name  down  just  for  fun  and  to 
get  the  practice,"  said  Tom,  who  had  never  re 
garded  himself  as  particularly  expert.  In  the  last 
few  weeks,  however,  he  had  had — as  he  expressed 
it — a  "burst,"  hitting  the  ball  with  such  accuracy 
and  speed  that  men  with  whom  he  had  played  about 
on  a  par  before,  could  not  now  take  more  than  a 
game  or  two  from  him  in  a  set.  He  had  always 
had  a  natural  "Lawford,"  and  constant  practice 
had  given  him  perfect  co-ordination  of  eye  and 
muscle  together  with  the  ability  to  place  any  ball 
he  could  reach  at  all,  very  nearly  where  he  wished 
to  put  it  in  his  opponent's  court,  but  he  had  never 
expected  to  become  anything  more  than  what  he 
called  "a  first-class  second-class  player."  A  couple 
of  weeks  before,  however,  he  had  "blown"  himself 
to  a  new  racket  of  exactly  the  proper  weight  and 
carefully  fitted  to  his  hand,  and  was  astonished  at 
his  own  powers.  And  then  one  afternoon  he  had 
discovered  the  "egg  serve." 

"Do  you  really  think  I've  got  a  chance?"  he 
asked  Cryder  as  they  walked  back  in  the  gathering 
twilight  to  the  Yard. 

"Chance?  Why,  ' Irish/  if  I  had  a  hundred 
dollars  I'd  put  it  on  you,  in  a  minute,  for  class 
champion.  I  don't  believe  Derby,  even  if  he  is  so 
quick,  could  return  a  single  ball.  You'll  take  every 
service  game — on  aces.  You  see.  Only  keep  that 
serve  out  of  sight  until  the  right  time.  Tell  you 


104      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

what — we  can  go  over  to  that  old  dirt  court  back 
of  Bracebridge  Hall  and  practise,  where  no  one'll 
see  us !  Nobody  ever  uses  it  and,  when  the  tourna 
ment  comes  off,  you  can  just  spring  it  on  'em!" 

Tom  had  a  suspicion,  which  he  hardly  dared  to 
recognize  as  a  belief,  that  what  Cryder  said  was 
true,  and  every  afternoon  he  and  Joe  retired  to  the 
old  dirt  court  and  prepared  for  the  coming  contest 
by  serving  to  each  other  every  conceivable  kind  of 
devilish  ball  under  the  most  awkward  of  conditions. 
When  the  tournament  opened  Tom  found  that  he 
had  not  the  slightest  difficulty  in  defeating  all  his 
early  opponents  and  reaching  the  semi-finals  in 
which  he  drew  Joe  Cryder  as  an  antagonist. 

A  large  number  of  the  class  had  assembled  on 
the  benches  to  watch  the  finish  of  the  tournament. 
The  day  was  hot  and  clear,  with  no  wind,  the  courts 
dry.  Joe  grinned  at  Tom  as  they  tossed  for  serve. 

"Watch  'em  sit  up,"  he  chuckled,  "when  you 
spring  the  'egg'  on  me!" 

Tom  ran  his  eye  along  the  lines  of  spectators, 
but  saw  comparatively  few  that  he  recognized. 
Little  Frank  True  was  there  with  a  group  of 
"Woolsack"  men,  and  he  nodded  to  Tom  and 
called  out  "good  luck!" 

Cryder  won  the  toss  and  took  the  serve.  He  had 
a  speedy  ball,  well  under  control,  but  his  lobs  were 
apt  to  be  wild  and  his  net  work  was  slow.  Tom 
took  the  first  set — six-four — without  using  the 
"egg."  The  second  set  he  pushed  Cryder  harder 
and  let  him  have  only  two  games,  and  in  the  last 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY       105 

played  his  best  and  took  six  love  games  with  smash 
ing  cross-courts  and  line  shots.  He  still  "had  the 
egg  under  his  shirt"  as  he  leaped  over  the  net  and 
grabbed  Cryder's  hand,  while  the  men  on  the  benches 
clapped  and  cheered.  Tom  felt  a  thrill  of  genuine 
excitement.  It  was  the  first  notice  he  had  received 
from  his  fellows,  the  first  time  he  individually  had 
been  brought  to  their  attention.  Little  Frank  True 
limped  up  and  was  the  first  to  congratulate  him. 

"Great  work,  Tom,  old  man!"  he  cried.  "Hope 
you're  not  too  tired!"  for  by  agreement  the  finals 
were  to  be  played  off  immediately. 

Derby  had  won  his  match  easily — six-three,  six- 
five,  six-three.  He  was  expected  to  defeat  Tom, 
who  was  a  "dark  horse,"  without  difficulty,  but  he 
found  his  new  antagonist  a  surprising  opponent. 
They  each  played  steadily,  and  took  alternate 
games,  until  Tom  drove  his  man  to  the  back  of 
the  court  and  held  him  there  helpless — thus  win 
ning  the  set.  Derby,  astonished  at  Tom's  speed 
and  accuracy,  came  back  with  grim  determination 
and  by  brilliant  playing  took  the  next  two  sets— 
six-four,  six-five.  The  pace,  however,  was  too  fast 
for  him,  and  Tom  won  the  fourth  set — six-three. 
Each  had  now  won  two  sets.  The  crowd  of  lookers- 
on  had  rapidly  increased,  for  word  had  gone  round 
that  a  great  match  was  being  "pulled  off"  and  that 
a  new  "wonder"  had  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a 
hitherto  practically  unknown  member  of  the  class 
named  Kelly — "Irish."  Boys  who  had  never  heard 
of  him  before  at  once  began  to  refer  to  him  fa- 


io6       THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

miliarly  by  this  nickname,  and  yelled  from  the 
bleachers : 

"Go  it,  ' Irish !'"  "Soak  it  to  him,  'Irish,'  old 
boy!" 

A  couple  of  hundred  upper  classmen  sauntered 
across  from  the  baseball  field  and  a  bunch  of  law- 
school  men,  disturbed  over  their  case-books  by  the 
cheering  and  clapping,  joined  the  spectators. 

"Play!"  called  the  umpire,  and  Tom  and  Derby 
stepped  out  upon  the  court  for  the  final  struggle. 
The  sun  was  low  over  the  elms  on  Harvard  Street, 
across  the  green  field  came  faintly  the  distant  clang 
of  electric  cars,  and  the  fresh  smell  of  the  moist 
turf.  Tom  calmly  tightened  his  belt.  He  felt  lean 
and  hard  as  a  race-horse.  He  knew  he  was  going 
to  win — could  win  without  the  "egg,"  if  need  be! 
Youth  was  singing  in  his  heart.  He  wanted  to 
laugh,  to  turn  a  few  handsprings,  to  shout  at  the 
crowds  on  the  benches:  "You  see,  I'm  not  such  a 
'  lemon '  after  all ! "  Such  is  the  resiliency  of  youth — 
the  more  you  tax  it  the  more  it  draws  upon  its  eter 
nal  spring.  Each  time  it  is  downed  it  gains  new  vi 
tality  from  mother  earth.  And  because  he  knew  he 
had  the  match  in  his  hand  and  wasn't  "such  a  lemon 
after  all,"  at  the  very  first  ball  he  proceeded  to  slip 
on  the  side-lines  and  wrench  his  left  arm  so  that  he 
ground  his  teeth  in  anguish. 

Derby  took  the  first  game.  He  was  coming  back 
strong — fighting  for  his  title.  Tom  pulled  out  the 
second  game  with  a  brilliant  cannon-ball  service, 
but  the  pain  in  his  arm  caused  him  to  lose  the  third 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       107 

and  fourth.  Some  of  the  crowd  strolled  away  think 
ing  that  it  was  all  over.  Derby  now  felt  assured 
of  victory.  He  had  found  himself  able  to  take  care 
of  Tom's  service,  powerful  and  accurate  though  it 
was,  and  he  looked  across  to  the  benches  and  nodded 
to  a  group  of  his  friends  as  if  to  say:  "It's  all  right, 
now.  Watch  me  polish  him  off !" 

It  was  Tom's  serve,  and  Derby  took  his  stand 
five  feet  back  of  his  service  line,  intending  to  return 
with  a  Lawford  down  the  alley.  He  saw  Tom  toss 
the  ball  in  the  air  and  saw  his  racket  flashing  in  a 
queer,  unnatural  swing.  The  ball  shot  at  him  in  a 
swiftly  dropping  parabola,  veering  into  the  right- 
hand  corner  of  the  court.  He  stepped  back  to  take 
it.  But  the  ball,  on  striking  the  ground,  hummed 
like  a  gigantic  top  and  shot  high  across  the  court 
at  an  opposite  angle.  Dazed,  he  walked  slowly  to 
the  other  side.  Again  Tom's  racket  swung,  again 
the  swift  drop  and  the  sideways  leap.  Twice  more 
it  happened. 

"Game — love!"  called  the  umpire.  "The  games 
are  now  three- two — Derby  leads." 

Nobody  on  the  benches  knew  just  what  had 
happened  or  was  happening.  They  saw  the  cham 
pion  waving  wildly  or  standing  in  helpless  impo 
tence  while  the  balls  rolled  untouched  against  the 
back  net.  So  confused  was  he  that  he  lost  his 
own  service,  bringing  the  games  to  a  tie — three  all. 
Once  more  Tom  served,  and  again  using  the  "egg" 
took  a  love  game.  Derby,  becoming  rattled  at  his 
inability  to  connect  at  all  with  the  ball,  retired  to 


io8       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  back  of  the  court,  and  swiftly  lost  the  two  last 
games — still  wondering  what  occult  powers  Tom 
possessed. 

"Game — match — tournament!"  shouted  the  um 
pire.  "Mr.  —  what's  his  name? — wins !" 

"Kelly's  the  name!"  remarked  Tom  as  he  shook 
hands  with  his  shamefaced  opponent. 

There  was  a  great  burst  of  applause.  Some  one 
shouted:  "Three  cheers  for  ' Irish M"  And  they 
were  given  heartily.  The  fellows  were  all  about 
him  now,  wringing  his  hand  and  praising  his  play; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  burning  pain  in  his  left  arm,  he 
felt  the  supremest  happiness  of  his  life — the  exal 
tation  of  successful  physical  achievement.  Joe 
Cryder  was  there  helping  him  into  a  borrowed  polo 
coat,  and  in  an  admiring  circle  at  his  elbow  stood 
Holden,  Ricker,  Peters,  and  Smith.  Then  he  heard 
little  Frank  True  saying: 

"Congratulations,  old  man!  Raymond  Dwight 
wants  to  be  introduced.  Says  he's  never  met  you." 

"I  don't  mind!"  answered  the  hero  of  the  mo 
ment,  and  without  a  thought  turned  from  the  friends 
about  him  and  sought  the  Companionship  of  the 
Great. 

Ten  days  later  Tom  won  the  college  champion 
ship,  by  what  in  after-years  he  was  accustomed  to 
describe  as  a  "trick"— the  "egg." 


X 

IN  a  softly  lighted  room,  in  which  a  sea-coal  fire 
glowed  beneath  a  mantel  supporting  a  row  of  an 
cient  pewter  mugs  and  illuminated  a  choice  collec 
tion  of  rare  old  sporting  prints  upon  the  walls,  a 
group  of  young  men  were  lounging  in  leather  chairs, 
with  the  easy  self-confidence  that  comes  to  those 
who  have  " arrived"  somewhere,  at  least  for  the 
time  being.  All  were  carefully  dressed  and  all, 
with  few  exceptions,  spoke  in  an  abrupt,  clipped  Bos- 
tonese,  only  marred  occasionally  by  the  flat  "a" 
of  the  eastern  counties  of  New  England.  The  at 
mosphere  was  one  of  well-being  and  good-breed 
ing,  and  their  attitude  toward  one  another  that 
of  studied  courtesy,  which  obviously  included  over 
looking  each  other's  failings,  moral  or  otherwise. 
With  a  couple  of  dozen  other  men  they  were  the 
social  dictators  of  their  college  class.  They  knew 
that  the  world,  of  the  university  at  any  rate,  was 
their  oyster  and  it  tasted  exceedingly  good  to  them. 
And  because  they  felt  themselves  responsible  for 
the  social  tone  of  their  year  at  Harvard  they  took 
themselves  seriously  and  regarded  the  selection  of 
another  to  enter  their  sacred  circle  as  a  matter  of 
the  highest  importance,  and  worthy  of  profound 
consideration. 

109 


no       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

It  was  the  autumn  following  Tom's  sensational 
appearance  upon  the  athletic  horizon,  and  it  was 
none  other  than  he  who  was  the  subject  of  their 
informal  deliberations. 

"Of  course,  Kelly  isn't  exactly  the  type  of  fellow 
you'd  want  to  invite  to  spend  a  week  with  you  in 
the  summer,"  muttered  Howard  Catherwood,  sotto 
voce,  to  one  of  his  intimates  named  Pennington  as 
he  inserted  a  fresh  cigarette  into  a  slender  meer 
schaum  holder.  "Nobody  ever  heard  of  a  c Kelly' 
in  any  club  here  in  Cambridge." 

But  his  remark  was  overheard  and  brought  swift 
retribution. 

"There's  'Cold-Roast  Boston'  for  you!"  dis 
gustedly  retorted  Allyn  Scott,  who  in  appearance 
was  not  unlike  Tom's  erstwhile  friend  Peters  and 
whose  narrow  face  also  showed  unmistakable  signs 
of  dissipation.  "My  dear,  impeccable  young  snob, 
there  are  plenty  of  smart  people  in  New  York 
named  Kelly,  and  everybody  knows  the  Kellys  of 
Paris.  There  have  been  all  sorts  of  Kellys  in  clubs 
out  here  and  elsewhere.  You've  only  heard  of 
1  Slide,  Kelly,  Slide ! '  There  are  others ! " 

"Well,"  laughed  Dick  Crowninshield,  the  bronzed 
Hercules  who  stroked  the  varsity,  "why  not  be 
the  ones  to  make  the  name  of  Kelly  famous?  In 
honoring  Kelly,  perhaps  we  shall  honor  ourselves." 

"I  should  say  Kelly  was  famous  enough  already," 
said  Raymond  Dwight,  a  curly-haired  Bostonian 
whose  presidency  of  the  class  had  been  foreordained 
almost  as  soon  as  his  sex  had  been  definitely  as- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       in 

certained  at  birth.  "A  man  can't  win  the  university 
tennis  championship,  and  defeat  a  half-dozen  first- 
class  players — without  being  moderately  famous. 
The  cracks  say  that  Kelly  is  a  'comer/  and  will  be 
the  national  champion  in  a  few  years,  if  he  keeps  on." 

"But  of  course  we  don't  want  to  take  a  man  just 
because  he's  a  good  athlete,"  protested  Lawrence 
West,  a  serious-minded  youth  from  Beacon  Street 
who  was  an  expert  on  Whistler,  and  did  excellent 
water-color  sketches.  "He  may  be  quite  impos 
sible  in  other  ways." 

"Oh,  Kelly's  all  right,"  announced  the  fair- 
minded  and  generous  Dwight.  "I'd  bank  on  Frank 
True's  opinion  every  time.  He  says  Kelly's  a  fine 
chap.  He's  rather  hard  up,  but  he  comes  of  good 
people,  and  he  just  happened  to  get  in  with  a  rather 
cheap  bunch  when  he  first  came  here.  It's  a  mis 
take,  in  my  opinion,  to  pick  fellows  for  the  club 
that  are  all  just  alike.  I'm  for  giving  him  a 
chance." 

"I  don't  see  any  need  of  our  taking  any  chance," 
growled  Sam  Pennington,  whose  father  was  a  New 
York  banker.  "The  burden  of  proof  is  on  him. 
Just  because  he  can  whack  a  tennis-ball  around 
isn't  any  reason  for  taking  him  into  a  social  club. 
We're  responsible  for  him  as  soon  as  he's  one  of 
us.  What's  the  use?" 

Pennington  was  a  notorious  "stand-patter,"  al 
though  this  quality  in  him  was  otherwise  described 
by  his  associates,  the  word  not  having  been  in 
vented  at  this  period.  The  other  boys  called  him 


112       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"conservative,"  which,  after  all,  is  more  polite. 
Conservative  he  was,  to  a  degree.  His  gospel  was 
to  "play  safe,"  to  put  your  social  "talent"  in  a 
basket  and  there  carefully  to  preserve  it.  He  was 
short,  with  a  cherubic  face,  and  gave  an  impression 
of  sleekness — "  fat  and  well-liking"  to  use  the  bibli 
cal  equivalent,  and  he  believed  that  if  you  were 
well  off  it  paid  to  let  yourself  alone.  He  had  rosy 
cheeks,  clear,  cold  gray  eyes,  and  conveyed  an  in 
describable  atmosphere  of  calm  opulence.  "Knew 
how  to  handle  himself,"  his  clubmates  all  said  of 
Pennington,  meaning  by  this  that  he  knew  "when 
to  stop." 

"If  our  friend  Sam  had  originated  this  blooming 
institution,"  drawled  Scott,  "there'd  be  only  one 
member,  wouldn't  there,  Sammy  old  horse?" 

Pennington  deigned  no  reply. 

"Take  him  in,  if  you  want  to,"  he  said  in  an 
impersonal  sort  of  way,  as  if,  having  given  such 
counsel  as  seemed  to  him  wise,  his  responsibility 
were  ended. 

"Darn  well-built  fellow!"  put  forth  Crownin- 
shield.  "Looks  like  that  statue  in  <U.  5'  of  the 
Greek  chap  throwing  a  piece  of  hardtack  or  what 
ever  it  is." 

Lawrence  West  gave  one  of  his  mild  rare  laughs. 

"Hardtack!"  he  repeated.  "Hardtack!  Ha, 
ha!  I  suppose  you  mean  the  'cestus.' : 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  hastened  Crowninshield 
in  mock  apology.  "Is  that  what  they  called  it? 
I  always  thought  it  was  hardtack " 


THE   WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       113 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Dick!"  interrupted  Catherwood. 
"What's  that  got  to  do  with  this  election?  That 
statue  isn't  named  Kelly.  And  it's  not  the  'cestus' 
thrower  either — it's  the  ' discus'  thrower." 

"Ho — ho!"  shouted  Scott,  kicking  his  legs  in 
the  air.  "A  battle  between  the  giants!  What 
price  '  discus '  ?  What  odds  on  '  cestus '  ?  " 

"Quit  your  noise,  won't  you!"  ordered  Dwight. 
"Now  we're  on  the  subject — who  knows  anything 
against  Kelly  or  for  him?" 

There  was  a  rapid  fire  of  assault  and  eulogy. 

"How  is  his  head — swelled?" 

"No  more  than  Dick's !    Eh,  Dick?" 

"We  need  some  new  blood." 

"Then  just  wait  till  Kelly  lands  his  'egg'  on 
your  nose!" 

"Appoint  a  committee  to  look  him  over." 

"Wish  True  were  here — he'd  tell  us  more  about 
him " 

At  about  this  moment  True  did  appear.  He 
was  panting  from  the  exertion  of  limping  so  fast 
in  his  iron  brace,  and  his  face  was  white.  In  fact 
the  pain  in  his  thigh  was  well-nigh  insupportable. 
But  he  smiled  through  compressed  lips  at  the  af 
fectionate  chorus  which  greeted  his  appearance. 

"Here's  the  doctor!"  exclaimed  Scott.  "Now 
we'll  get  a  first-hand  diagnosis.  'What's  the  matter 
with  Kelly'?" 

True  looked  inquiringly  around  the  circle.  He 
could  see  that  all  was  not  well  with  his  candidate. 
He  had  come  to  have  a  genuine  affection  for  Tom, 


H4       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

admiring  his  honesty  and  frankness  of  speech,  and 
enjoying  his  occasional  flashes  of  humor.  He  had 
made  repeated,  although  unsuccessful,  attempts 
during  the  preceding  two  years  to  have  Tom  taken 
into  the  club,  but  he  had  persisted  in  his  endeavor 
with  a  dogged  determination,  confident  that,  if 
Tom  were  only  known  to  these  men,  they  would 
be  glad  to  include  him  in  their  circle.  He  knew 
that,  with  a  few  exceptions,  they  were  at  bottom 
simple  and  democratic  and  glad  to  recognize  ability 
and  character,  but  he  knew  also  their  fatal  dislike 
of  taking  issue  with  one  another,  of  seeming  "to 
care,"  of  insisting  upon  their  own  opinions — in  a 
word — their  moral  inertia.  He  saw  at  once  that 
the  fight  would  be  with  Pennington  and  Cather- 
wood. 

"We  can't  afford  not  to  take  Kelly,"  he  said  with 
firmness,  "because  if  we  don't — when  we  know 
what  a  corker  he  is — it  would  stamp  us  for  a  lot 
of  snobs." 

"Hear!  Hear!"  interjected  Scott,  whose  family 
were  the  most  arrogant  in  the  New  York  Social 
Register.  He  chuckled  to  himself  at  True's  astute 
method  of  attack. 

"The  fact  is,"  went  on  Tom's  sponsor,  "that 
the  clubs  out  here  are  getting  a  bad  name  for  just 
that  reason.  We  do  the  best  we  can,  of  course,  but 
what  chance  have  we  got  to  find  out  the  really  fine 
chaps  from  out  West  and  down  South." 

"Lemons — most  of  'em!"  remarked  Catherwood, 
again  under  his  breath. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       115 

"We're  three  feet  wide  but  only  an  inch  thick/' 
continued  True.  "We  bore  each  other  stiff — often 
enough — talking  about  the  same  dances,  the  same 
people,  the  same  summer  resorts,  the  same  drinks, 
the  same  girls.  Personally  I'd  like  a  little  relief 
from  Newport  and  the  North  Shore.  I'd  like  a 
whiff  of  Puget  Sound  or  the  Gulf  of  Mexico." 

"What's  Kelly  a  'whiff'  of?"  inquired  Penning- 
ton  innocently. 

There  was  a  subdued  laugh. 

"I'll  tell  you!"  True  turned  on  him.  "He's  a 
whiff  of  the  salt  air  of  the  old  Boston  whose  citizens 
threw  their  tea  into  the  harbor  rather  than  pay 
English  duty!  He's  the  same  whiff  that  George 
the  Third  got  in  his  nose  in  1775.  But  he's  more 
than  that.  He's  a  bully  good  chap  that's  had  a 
hard  row  to  hoe,  not  so  much  on  account  of  what 
he  didn't  have  as  what  he  did  have.  He  was  born, 
as  he  says,  'on  the  wrong  side  of  the  street.'  He's 
come  from  behind,  but  he's  jumped  to  the  front, 
and  he's  going  to  be  the  greatest  tennis  player  this 
country  ever  produced.  Why,  if  we  didn't  take 
him  in,  they'd  say  it  was  because  his  name  was 
'Kelly'!" 

"That's  right!"  cried  out  half  a  dozen  of  his 
auditors.  "  They  would,  too  !" 

"Bully  for  Frank!"  exclaimed  Scott.  "What 
have  you  got  to  say,  Pennington?" 

The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"They  might  say  that,"  he  answered  quietly. 
"I've  no  objection  to  taking  him  in,  if " 


n6       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Suddenly  True,  who  had  been  clinging  rigid  to 
the  arms  of  his  chair,  fell  heavily  backward. 

"By  God!  Water!"  cried  Dwight.  "Frank's 
fainted.  Send  for  old  Doc.  Wheeler !" 

They  loosened  True's  collar  and  wheeled  him 
to  the  window,  but  it  was  several  minutes  before 
he  opened  his  eyes.  When  Dr.  Wheeler  finally  ar 
rived  he  placed  the  lad  in  his  buggy  and  drove 
him  over  to  the  dormitory,  where  Dwight  and 
Crowninshield  carried  him  up-stairs  and  laid  him 
in  bed. 

"I'm  coming  'round  to-morrow  to  give  you  a 
talking  to,  young  man!"  he  said  severely,  before 
leaving.  "And  you  must  promise  to  lie  right  here 
until  I  come.  You  fellows  look  after  him.  I  shall 
hold  you  responsible." 

The  two  big  men  sat  awkwardly  by  the  bedside 
for  a  long  time — while  True  lay  there  with  closed 
eyes — apparently  asleep.  Suddenly  he  said  in  a 
whisper:  "Did — Tom — get  in?" 

"That's  all  right,  Frankie,  old  man!"  answered 
Crowninshield  cheerfully.  "He's  as  good  as  in. 
If  that  little  saphead  of  a  Sam  makes  any  trouble 
I'll  take  him  out  and  stick  him  under  the  pump." 

"Don't  worry,"  added  Dwight.  "Kelly's  got  to 
get  in  !  That's  all  there  is  to  it !" 

So  Kelly  "got  in"— at  last. 


XI 

ONE  evening,  about  ten  days  later,  Tom  was 
sitting  alone  in  his  jaundice-colored  room  grinding 
for  his  first-hour  examination  in  economics.  For  a 
week  or  so  after  winning  the  college  championship 
the  previous  spring  he  had  lived  in  a  rose-colored 
world  and  then,  as  nothing  further  had  happened, 
he  had  relapsed  into  his  erstwhile  disgruntled  state. 
After  such  a  dazzling  experience  it  had  been  un 
speakably  dull  for  him  to  be  obliged  to  join  his 
mother  on  her  annual  junket  to  the  White  Moun 
tains,  and  that  year  the  boarding-houses  had  seemed 
even  more  dreary  than  usual. 

With  a  relief  that  was  almost  a  joy  he  returned 
to  Cambridge — to  find,  apparently,  nothing  changed. 
His  success  had  made  no  difference.  He  was  now 
a  prominent  figure  in  college  athletics  and  yet  there 
was  not  an  additional  door  open  to  him.  Of  course, 
Mr.  Russell  and  Evelyn  had  shown  pleasure  at  his 
achievements,  but  his  mother  had  felt  it  her  duty 
to  conceal  any  satisfaction  which  she  may  have 
felt,  and  had  merely  expressed  the  hope  that  it 
wouldn't  turn  his  head ! 

Poor  Tom,  struggling  hard  to  fight  out  his  college 
course  on  the  line  Fate  had  selected  for  him,  found 

117 


n8       THE   WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

his  championship  dust  in  his  mouth.  He  had  had 
a  vision  of  clouds  of  glory,  and  then  the  gray  mists 
had  drifted  in  again.  He  kicked  viciously  against 
the  pricks  of  his  dun-colored  existence,  and  he 
kicked  in  vain.  He  had  his  place  and  there  he  must 
stay.  So  in  a  bitterly  rebellious  spirit  he  worked 
on — to  what  end  he  knew  not.  He  was  in  a  partic 
ularly  recalcitrant  frame  of  mind  that  night,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  chucking  the  whole  thing  in 
favor  of  a  lonely  trip  to  a  musical  show  in  Boston, 
when  True  tapped  on  his  door.  There  was  a  queer 
look  on  his  pale  face. 

"Some  of  the  fellows  want  to  see  you  over  at 
the  'Woolsack' !"  he  said  in  a  careless  way. 

Tom  gazed  sourly  at  him  from  under  his  green 
eye-shade. 

"Me?    What  for?    I  don't- 

And  then  something  in  Frank's  eyes  set  his  heart 
athump. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  choked.  He  wouldn't 
be  made  a  fool  of  again. 

"Would  you  care  to  become  a  member?" 

"You're  not  joking,  Frank?" 

"Why,  of  course  not!    I  couldn't." 

Tom  got  up  and  turned  quickly  to  the  window. 
So  it  had  come  at  last!  The  "Woolsack"!  One 
of  the  best  of  the  clubs. 

"Oh,  Frank!"  he  said,  trying  to  hide  the  quiver 
ing  of  his  lips.  "It's  all  you!  I  know  it!  You 
don't  realize  what  this  means  to  me !  I've  been  so 
— lonely.  Of  course  Harvard's  a  wonderful  place, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       119 

but  it's  so  infernally  big — I've  been  lost  in  it,  up 
to  now!" 

When  Tom  told  his  mother  of  his  election  to 
the  "Woolsack"  Mrs.  Kelly  was  seriously  upset. 
She  had  always  heard  of  those  college  clubs  as  hor 
rible  places  where  the  students  did  nothing  but 
drink  and  play  cards — "traps  of  Satan." 

"Oh,  Tom,"  she  whispered  in  a  terrified  voice, 
"don't  let  them  persuade  you  to  drink.  I  don't 
mind  smoking  nearly  so  much,  but  do  promise  me 
not  to  drink!" 

"Can't  you  trust  me  to  behave  like  a  gentleman, 
mother,"  blustered  Tom  disingenuously.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  almost  hysterical  excitement,  had  made 
up  his  mind  already  to  do  whatever  the  other  fellows 
did !  "  Can't  you  trust  me,  now  ?  If  not,  how  can 
you  ever  trust  me!" 

She  looked  narrowly  at  him,  her  woman's  in 
stinct  grasping  the  situation  with  unerring  ac 
curacy. 

"Tom!"  she  said,  in  a  desperate  tone,  "if  you 
drank,  it  would  break  my  heart !" 

He  did  not  reply  and  she  turned  quite  cold.  His 
next  words  frightened  her  even  more. 

"Could  you  manage  to  let  me  have  a  little 
money,  mother?" 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  asked  for  it. 
She  knew  that  he  appreciated  the  sacrifices  she 
had  made — was  still  making — to  send  him  to  col 
lege.  Yet  he  was  her  only  son !  And  secretly  she 


120       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

was  supremely  gratified  by  this  recognition  of  his 
classmates. 

"If  you  really  need  it,"  she  answered,  relieved 
herself  that  their  conversation  no  longer  hinged 
upon  the  depressing  subject  of  drink.  "I've  got 
that  five  hundred  dollars  I  saved  up  for  a  rainy  day 
when  you  were  at  school." 

"I  don't  need  anything  like  that,"  he  replied. 
"A  couple  of  hundred,  maybe.  There's  the  dues 
and,  you  know,  mother,  I  ought  to  get  some  new 
clothes." 

"  Clothes ! "  she  cried  sharply.  "  What's  the  mat 
ter  with  the  clothes  you've  got  on?  Your  father 
wore  that  blue  coat  of  his  fourteen  years,  and  there 
wasn't  a  moth  hole  in  it  when  he  died.  I  should 
think  you  could  get  along  as  you  are." 

"Of  course,  I  can't  let  'em  be  ashamed  of  me." 

"Ashamed  of  you,  Tom.  I  guess  they're  mighty 
glad  to  get  you  to  join." 

He  smiled  to  himself. 

"And  I've  got  to  keep  up  my  end." 

"Not  one  cent  will  I  give  you  for  pleasure!" 
she  insisted  resentfully.  "You  can  take  my  last 
cent  for  books — I  want  you  to  have  every  advan 
tage  !  But  nothing  will  I  give  you  for — for  cards — 
or  tobacco — or  liquor !  Oh,  Tom !  You  wouldn't 
take  the  money  in  the  bank  for  that!"  she  asked 
in  despair. 

" No,  mother,"  he  answered  a  little  guiltily.  "But 
I  must  have  some  money."  And  then  to  change  the 
subject  and  make  her  feel  that  by  virtue  of  what 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       121 

had  happened  life  would  be  different  for  her  as  well, 
he  added  much  as  one  would  picture  a  coming 
pleasure  to  a  child:  "And,  mother!  I  want  you  to 
meet  the  fellows !  I'm  going  to  bring  some  of  them 
in  here  right  away  to  see  you — to  supper,  maybe !" 

"Oh!"  she  uttered  aghast.  "Oh,  I  couldn't 
have  them.  There'd  be  nothing  fit  for  them  to  eat ! 
And  they'd  tell  their  mothers  about  it.  There's 
Mrs.  D wight,  for  instance;  she's  in  the  'Ladies 
Auxiliary.'  I'd  never  dare  look  her  in  the  face 
again — if  her  son  came  in  here  to  supper  and  got 
only — ham!" 

"I've  no  doubt  Bridget  could  get  up  a  very  nice 
supper,"  replied  Tom  somewhat  doubtfully. 

He  had  not  really  intended  to  bring  anybody  to 
supper.  It  had  simply  seemed  a  natural  sort  of 
thing  to  say,  and  so  he  had  said  it.  Now  he  per 
ceived  that  it  would  involve  social  awkwardnesses. 
The  fellows  would  come,  to  be  sure,  and  be  more 
than  polite;  but  he  could  imagine  Pennington  and 
Catherwood  if  his  mother  said  "You  was"  or  "I 
should  have  thought  you  would  have,"  and  dis 
played  as  she  certainly  would  her  ignorance  of  social 
conventions.  And  he  was  almost  sure  that  they 
didn't  have  any  finger-bowls!  No,  it  wouldn't  do 
at  all.  Yet  at  the  same  time  he  knew  perfectly 
well  that  nothing  in  the  course  of  human  events 
could  possibly  give  his  mother  such  satisfaction  as 
to  have  the  son  of  Mrs.  Hamilton  Dwight — Mrs. 
D  wight  of  Commonwealth  Avenoo,  that  is — take 
a  meal  at  her  house.  Such  a  social  triumph  would 


122       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

have  painted  her  drab  existence  with  prismatic 
colors,  and  would  have  sufficed  her  as  a  topic  of 
conversation  forever  afterward. 

All  this  Tom  knew  very  well,  but — he  just  couldn't 
do  it.  And  he  must  get  the  idea  out  of  her  head ! 
He  of  course  realized  that  what  she  had  said  was 
not  meant  to  be  taken  seriously.  It  was  merely  a 
polite  protest  to  be  as  politely  overruled.  All  she 
needed — and  expected — was  a  little  urging,  and 
then  she  would  yield  gracefully,  for  both  of  them 
were  fully  aware  that  Bridget  could  serve  a  very 
excellent  "high  tea"  indeed — scalloped  oysters, 
lobster  salad,  orange  layer-cake,  chocolate,  just  as 
good  exactly  as  you'd  get  at  "The  Women's  Ex 
change." 

"No,"  she  repeated,  but  looking  hopefully  at 
Tom's  suddenly  glum  face,  "I'd  never  dare!  And 
then  Mrs.  West,  too,  over  on  Beacon  Street.  I 
pass  her  quite  often.  I  might  have  to  bow  to  her." 

Already  she  had  had  a  pathetic  vision — a  mirage, 
alas !  of  a  gushing,  if  tiny  spring,  in  the  social  Sahara 
of  her  existence,  and  her  timid  spirit  fluttered  in 
delicious  perturbation.  All  Tom  would  have  had 
to  say  to  overcome  her  resistance  would  have  been, 
"  Oh,  nonsense,  mother !  Give  'em  anything  you've 
got!"  which,  coupled  with  one  of  his  accustomed 
hugs  and  a  hearty  kiss,  would  have  swept  away  all 
her  defenses,  leaving  only  a  faint  little  final  "Oh, 
Tom!  Do  you  really  think  we  could?"  And  she 
would  have  hurried  away  to  order  the  supper  at 
once,  and  maybe  have  gone  over  to  Fanny  Trollop's 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       123 

to  see  if  she  still  had  that  celebrated  recipe  belong 
ing  to  her  Aunt  Hemenway  for  tipsy  pudding. 
But  his  response  to  her  protest  in  the  present  in 
stance  was  half-hearted. 

"I  suppose  she  could  serve  a  good-enough  supper/' 
he  repeated.  "But,  of  course,  if  you  would  feel 
awkward  or  embarrassed  about  it,  there's  no  need 
of  having  them.  On  the  whole,  I  guess  you're 
right." 

He  could  see  the  expectant  look  in  his  mother's 
eyes  give  way  to  one  of  disappointment,  and  for 
a  moment  he  almost  felt  like  reconsidering.  No, 
it  was  too  much  to  expect.  She  would  surely 
" queer"  him  with  her  talk  about  Uncle  Ezra  and 
Aunt  Eliza.  She  might  even  mention  "punkin' 
seeds"  !  But  Mrs.  Kelly  had  not  given  up  all  hope 
even  yet.  Tom  had  acted  at  first  as  if  he  had  really 
meant  it  and  perhaps 

"The  rector  said  Bridget's  scalloped  oysters  were 
the  best  he'd  ever  et!"  she  hazarded  timidly. 

"Oh,  those  fellows  have  oysters  all  the  time!" 
he  protested.  "And  they're  used  to  having  dinner 
at  night." 

"Dinner  at  night!"  gasped  Mrs.  Kelly,  bewil 
dered. 

"And  when  they  go  out  to  be  entertained,"  he 
added  unthinkingly,  "they  usually  expect  some 
sort  of — of  beverage." 

His  mother's  face  hardened. 

"They'll  never  come  to  my  house  if  they  expect 
that!"  she  replied  defiantly. 


XII 

TOM  found  the  " Woolsack"  a  very  agreeable 
place.  He  had  always  imagined  that  there  was 
something  mysterious  about  college  social  organi 
zations,  and  that  their  meetings  were  given  over 
to  strange  rites  and  alcoholic  revelry,  but  he  soon 
discovered  that  this  was  a  mistake.  The  club  was 
only  a  common  meeting-ground,  where  the  men 
loafed,  read,  played  cards,  and  ordered  such  drinks 
as  they  chose.  And  the  men  themselves  were  as 
different  from  each  other  as  the  members  of  his 
own  old  circle.  Indeed,  in  the  main,  he  found  among 
his  new  friends  precisely  the  same  types.  Save 
for  the  fact  that  they  were  less  assertive,  spent 
more  money,  and  had  a  larger  knowledge  of  the 
world,  Dick  Crowninshield  might  have  been  Jo 
Cryder,  Allyn  Scott  might  have  been  Andy  Peters, 
and  either  Pennington  or  Catherwood  might  have 
been  J.  Walton-Smith. 

Most  of  them  were  quiet,  rather  reserved  young 
fellows  who  had  come  from  decent  homes,  and 
whose  chief  interest  in  life  was  athletics.  As  a 
whole,  they  were  no  more  intellectual  than  his  former 
friends,  but  he  heard  less  cheap  and  dirty  talk  and 
the  "Smart  Alec"  was  conspicuous  by  his  absence. 
There  were  no  "freaks"  among  them  and  no  ge- 

124 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       125 

niuses.  They  were  satisfied  with  their  college,  their 
class,  their  club,  and  themselves,  and  seemed  to  feel 
that,  so  far  as  was  immediately  necessary,  they  had 
solved  the  problem  of  existence.  There  was  no 
general  conversation  except  regarding  sport,  the 
theatre,  social  doings  in  Boston,  and  the  needless 
obstacles  contrived  by  the  dean  and  faculty  to 
prevent  their  passing  their  examinations  without 
mental  labor.  Their  tone  as  to  honesty,  cleanliness 
in  speech,  generosity  and  consideration  for  others 
was  high;  as  to  personal  conduct  it  was  fairly  easy 
going.  So  long  as  a  man  acted  like  a  gentleman 
with  his  comrades,  they  did  not  particularly  con 
cern  themselves  as  to  his  habits.  It  was  none  of 
their  business  and  it  was  "bad  form"  to  be  curious. 
It  was  "bad  form"  to  get  drunk,  but  curiously 
enough  it  was  not  bad  form  for  particular  men  to 
get  drunk.  The  "Woolsack"  and  some  of  the  other 
clubs  contained  certain  privileged  characters  who 
were  regarded,  with  tolerance  and  even  apparent 
pride,  as  "funny  drunks."  They  were  allowed  to 
do  as  they  liked  so  long  as  they  remained  amusing. 
And  there  were  certain  ones  who  led  mysterious 
existences  and  were  held  in  a  kind  of  awe  by  the 
other  men.  These  were  generally  fellows  of  the 
millionaire  class,  who  had  large  personal  incomes 
and  lived  lives  of  their  own  in  which  poker,  cham 
pagne,  and  chorus  girls  were  supposed  to  figure 
prominently.  They  were  few  in  number.  Almost 
every  club  had  one  of  them  and  they  ran  together. 
There  were,  by  antithesis  to  these,  men  of  very 


126      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

small  means — like  Tom — sons  of  professors  and 
even  of  clergymen,  and  rich  fellows  who,  never 
theless,  took  life  seriously  and  were  almost  as  much 
"grinds"  as  Ricker.  To  his  great  surprise  Tom 
found  that  two  of  the  members  of  the  " Woolsack" 
were  Phi  Beta  Kappa  men,  and  that  another  held 
a  John  Harvard  scholarship. 

It  comes  to  few  college  undergraduates  to  suffer 
for  three  long  years  from  a  bitter,  if  unjustified, 
sense  of  ostracism  and  then  suddenly  to  be  ac 
claimed  as  worthy  of  the  highest  social  honors,  of 
intimacy  with  the  most  popular  and  distinguished 
members  of  the  class.  When  this  does  happen  it 
is  rarely  the  result  of  any  particular  achievement, 
athletic  or  otherwise,  on  the  part  of  the  individual, 
but  is  rather  more  often  due  to  the  efforts  often  un 
suspected,  of  some  friend.  Thus,  while  the  social 
recognition  which  he  finally  secured,  including  his 
election  to  the  "Woolsack,"  was  due  primarily  and 
directly  to  the  merest  chance — his  fortuitous  suc 
cess  at  tennis — nevertheless  without  Frank  True's 
persistent  knocking  at  the  door  of  friendship  on  his 
behalf,  it  would  probably  never  have  been  opened 
to  Tom. 

When  social  success  of  this  sort  does  come  at 
the  end  of  a  man's  college  course  it  is  far  more  likely 
to  end  disastrously  than  if  it  comes  of  its  own  accord 
in  the  natural  course  of  events.  Poor  Tom,  starved 
for  want  of  real  companionship,  firmly  believing 
that  he  had  a  well-founded  grudge  against  existence, 
and  bitterly  resentful  at  being  deprived  of  those 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       127 

pleasures  that  he  assumed  were  the  common  right 
of  all  young  fellows  of  his  age,  found  himself  un 
expectedly  received  as  an  intimate  friend  and  equal 
by  the  very  men  toward  whom  he  had  harbored 
these  feelings  of  resentment  and  antagonism.  The 
result  was,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  that  he  was 
knocked  completely  off  his  balance,  and  for  a  time 
was  the  victim  of  a  state  of  almost  hysterical  ex 
citement.  His  ego  filled  his  cosmos.  From  the 
hell  of  solitude  he  had  been  lifted  into  the  heaven 
of  companionship.  From  regarding  himself  as  an 
ugly  duckling  he  came  to  view  himself  as  a  swan. 
He  reasoned,  and  not  unnaturally,  that  he  must 
possess  unusual  qualities  both  physical  and  mental, 
unsuspected  by  himself,  which  differentiated  him 
from  the  common  herd  with  whom  he  had  formerly 
been  thrown.  And  yet,  through  some  subtle  in 
stinct,  or  thanks  to  a  lingering  trace  of  common 
sense,  he  was  astute  enough  to  keep  himself  in  the 
background  and  to  endeavor  so  to  conduct  himself 
that  his  new  friends  should  not  regret  their  action. 
Now  that  he  occupied  one  of  the  seats  of  the 
mighty,  he  took  pleasure  in  trying  to  justify  the 
very  exclusiveness  of  which  he  had  formerly  been 
the  victim,  the  very  social  system  which  he  had 
hitherto  looked  upon  so  resentfully  as  unfair  and 
undemocratic.  Yet,  to  his  surprise,  he  discovered 
that,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  men  such 
as  Catherwood  and  Pennington,  none  of  his  new 
friends  took  the  slightest  satisfaction  in  the  .fact 
that  they  were  thus  artificially  marked  out  and 


128       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

separated  from  their  fellows  as  members  of  a  select 
club.  There  was  nothing  snobbish  in  their  attitude 
at  all.  They  liked  to  have  a  handy  place  where 
they  and  their  intimate  friends  could  meet,  and 
this  the  " Woolsack"  provided  for  them,  just  as 
the  other  clubs,  the  "Cave  Dwellers"  for  instance, 
did  for  their  members.  But  the  mere  fact  that 
other  men  were  not  in  the  club,  while  they  were, 
meant  nothing  to  them.  Strangely  enough,  while 
Scott  and  other  men  in  the  club  seemed  to  feel  that 
social  conditions  in  college  were  not  all  that  they 
should  be  and  that  the  system  might  perhaps  be 
improved,  Tom  championed  it  as  the  natural  out 
come  of  conditions  over  which  no  control  could  be 
exercised.  Since  the  system  had  selected  him,  by 
that  same  token  it  must  be  all  right. 

As  the  months  went  on  Tom  found  the  society 
of  his  former  companions  less  and  less  attractive. 
At  first  he  continued  to  take  his  meals  at  the  old 
table  in  Memorial  Hall,  but  the  fellows  there  were 
strangely  cool.  There  was  almost  an  atmosphere 
of  hostility.  Plainly  they  resented  his  being  trans 
lated  to  a  higher  social  atmosphere.  Gradually 
they  ceased  entirely  dropping  into  his  room — all 
except  J.  Walton-Smith,  who  showered  Tom  with 
attentions,  to  the  latter's  great  annoyance,  and 
made  a  point  of  coming  over  every  day  after  lunch 
to  smoke  a  couple  of  pipes.  In  the  end  Tom  re 
signed  from  Memorial  and  joined  an  eating  club 
in  Mt.  Auburn  Street  to  which  West,  Dwight, 
Scott,  and  others  of  his  own  club  belonged,  and 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       129 

which  also  numbered  many  men  from  other  socie 
ties.  He  got  on  well  with  all  of  them,  but  he  found 
the  "Woolsack"  so  attractive  that  he  sadly  neg 
lected  his  work,  and  his  expenses  began  to  multiply. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  poker  played  and  Tom 
having  learned  the  game  could  not  resist  the  lure 
of  the  chips.  At  first  he  won — "beginner's  luck"; 
then  lost,  and  had  to  ask  his  mother  for  more  money. 
Moreover  his  friendship  with  Scott  and  his  desire 
to  be  a  "good  fellow"  led  him  gradually  into  the 
use  of  alcohol.  At  first  limiting  himself  to  a  cock 
tail  before  dinner,  he  soon  yielded  to  the  temptation 
to  share  the  artificial  gayety  induced  by  whiskey. 
By  the  "mid  years,"  he  was  drinking  steadily. 
When  his  conscience  reproached  him  he  told  him 
self  fiercely  that  he  was  entitled  to  make  up  for 
the  barrenness  of  his  childhood  and  the  misery  of 
his  first  years  in  college,  and  that  he  ought  to  seize 
the  opportunities  offered  by  the  "Woolsack"  to 
cement  friendship  that  in  after-life  might  prove 
valuable.  And  because  on  a  Saturday  afternoon 
his  breath  often  smelled  of  whiskey,  he  frequently 
gave  up  going  home  at  all  and  spent  the  evening  at 
the  theatre  with  Scott  and  the  next  day  snoozing 
before  the  fire  at  the  club. 

The  talk  he  heard  going  on  around  him  of  the 
smart  balls  given  in  Boston  and  Brookline  filled 
him  with  a  desire  to  enlarge  his  outside  social  ac 
quaintance.  It  would  pay  in  the  end.  These  years 
in  college  were  a  fellow's  one  great  chance.  Next 
year  he  might  be  slaving  in  an  office.  So  he  ordered 


130       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

a  new  dress-suit  costing  a  hundred  dollars  and  ar 
ranged,  through  West,  to  have  his  name  put  on 
the  list  for  the  Assemblies.  For  the  first  time  he 
drank  of  the  joy  of  feminine  adulation.  Every 
pretty  girl  to  whom  he  was  introduced  seemed  to 
have  heard  about  him;  knew  of  his  wonderful 
tennis-playing  and  his  wizard  serve,  and  was  shyly 
eager  to  know  him  better.  Poor  Tom,  intoxicated — 
as  many  another  boy  has  been — by  the  admiring 
eyes  of  debutantes,  lost  his  young  head  and  for  the 
time  believed  himself  a  conquering  social  hero.  He 
abandoned  his  studies,  spending  night  after  night 
at  dancing-parties  in  Boston  and  its  suburbs.  The 
house  on  Appian  Way  knew  him  rarely.  He  saw 
less  and  less  of  Frank  True  and,  strangely  enough, 
more  and  more  of  Catherwood  and  Pennington,  who 
even  found  some  social  capital  for  themselves  in 
his  acquaintance. 

He  flunked  two  courses  in  the  mid  years,  lost 
two  hundred  dollars  at  poker  and  another  hundred 
trying  to  get  it  back,  and  drank  more  and  more. 
He  also  became  a  confirmed  smoker  of  cigarettes. 
By  March  he  was  in  bad  physical  shape.  "Facile 
est  descensus!"  Once  started  downward  no  one 
ever  "descended"  with  more  "facility"  than  poor 
Tom.  He  dared  not  go  home.  Could  not  bring 
himself  to  visit  his  little  old  mother  patiently  wait 
ing  for  him  in  the  shabby  house  on  Newbury  Street, 
whither  an  electric  surface-car  would  have  carried 
him  in  less  than  half  an  hour. 

Thus  a  woman,  retiring  to  the  point  of  self-ef- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       131 

facement,  distrustful  of  even  her  own  ability  to 
express  her  ideas  grammatically,  fearful  of  her  own 
social  shadow,  and  timidly  shrinking  from  every 
contact  with  the  world,  was  able  to  inspire  actual 
moral  terror  by  reason  of  her  unfaltering,  if  primi 
tive,  belief  in  the  duty  imposed  upon  her  toward 
her  offspring  by  the  Almighty.  An  interview  with 
her  was  to  be  avoided  at  all  costs.  For,  as  she  would 
have  expressed  it,  God  would  have  given  her  strength 
to  make  her  son  realize  his  sin.  None  are  so  terrible 
as  the  meek  in  righteous  indignation.  So  Tom 
stayed  away  and  his  mother  waited  in  silence,  while 
he  dropped  postal  cards  to  her  at  rare  intervals, 
and  tried  to  dim  the  vision  of  her  in  a  constant  suc 
cession  of  frivolities. 

Seven  weeks  having  elapsed  since  he  had  seen 
her,  a  determined  knock  brought  him  to  his  door 
one  evening  expecting  to  find  Scott  or  Pennington 
outside  on  their  way  for  an  evening's  fun  in  Boston. 
At  first  he  did  not  recognize  the  tall  strange  figure 
standing  there  in  the  antique  bonnet  and  cameFs- 
hair  shawl. 

"It's  me,  Tom,"  answered  the  mellow,  vibrant 
voice  of  Bridget  the  cook. 

"Bridget!  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  out 
here?"  cried  Tom  in  astonishment.  Then  his  heart 
ceased  beating  for  an  instant  and  he  felt  almost 
faint  with  a  sudden  fear.  "There — isn't — any  bad 
news — is  there?"  he  gasped.  His  poor  old  mother 
might  be  dead  for  all  he  knew. 


132       THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"No,  there's  no  bad  news,"  answered  Bridget. 

"Will — will  you  come  in?"  he  asked  perfunc 
torily. 

"Thank  ye  kindly,"  said  Bridget.  "No,  I  must 
be  on  my  way.  I  was  just  after  comin'  back  from 
a  visit  to  me  Cousin  Annie,  at  Arlington — an'  I 
thought  I'd  stop  and  ask  about  the  wash,  now  yez 
hav  given  up  bringin'  it  home." 

"The  wash  is  all  right!"  said  Tom.  "There's 
a  Chinaman  over  in  the  Square;- he  comes  for  it." 

"The  dirty  haythen !  Don't  give  it  to  him,  Tom, 
and  him  a-squirtin'  the  water  on  it  out  of  his  filthy 
mouth !  Bring  it  home  to  me,  Tom.  And  save 
your  money !" 

"The  Chink  is  all  right!" 

He  was  torn  between  resentment  at  her  coming 
and  shame  at  seeing  her.  Her  "Cousin  Annie" 
and  "the  wash"  were  the  most  obvious  prevarica 
tions.  He  felt  her  presence  as  a  biting  reproach 
and  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  her  as  speedily  as  pos 
sible.  What  would  the  fellows  think  if  they  should 
see  her  there  and  hear  her  address  him  as  "Tom"? 
They  might  even  conclude  not  unnaturally  that 
she  was  an  aunt  or  something.  The  thought  had 
its  reflexes  in  his  muscles,  and,  as  if  by  accident,  he 
allowed  the  door  to  close  a  little.  The  gaunt  old 
face  gazed  at  him  sadly  across  the  threshold.  Had 
he  known  it,  her  old  heart  yearned  for  his  welfare 
almost  as  much  as  did  his  mother's,  but  he  saw  in 
her  austere  features  only  those  of  a  Nemesis. 

"'Tis  a  grand  room  yez  have,  Tom!"  she  said 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       133 

without  moving  her  eyes  from  his.  "Almost  as 
fine  as  the  library  at  home.  I  mind  the  time  your 
father  bought  all  the  furniture — the  green-covered 
table  and  all !  It  seems  only  a  week  agone !  And 
yer  mither  a  lovely  young  lady !  Her  hair's  white 
now,  Tom.  Yis,  'tis  a  grand  room  yez  have !  That 
was 'thirty  years  gone  by !  And  I  was  a  young  girl 
meself ,  though  ye  may  not  believe  it !  I  mind  the 
very  day  ye  was  born,  Tom,  and  Dr.  Tucker 
asking  for  the  scales,  and  yer  poor  father  locking 
himself  out  of  doors  —  God  rest  his  soul!  I've 
seen  ye  grow  up,  Tom,  and  no  one  so  well  as  I  knows 
all  yer  mither  has  done  for  ye.  Not  that  yez  have 
been  aught  but  a  good  boy!  I  knew  ye  love  yer 
mither.  But  life  is  life.  And  sometimes  'tis  sorrow 
ful,  and  sometimes  'tis  happy  thanks  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin!  But  never  did  any  mither  care  for  her 
gossoon  like  yours,  Tom,  and  many's  the  time  I've 
helped  put  the  ile  on  yer  small  back  and  rubbed 
yer  feet  wid  the  alcohol.  And  now  she's  an  old 
woman,  and  her  eyes  are  dim  wid  watchin'  out  of 
the  window  fer  yez  to  come  home,  and  her  hearin's 
a  bit  bad  for  strainin'  to  hear  the  sound  of  yer  voice, 
and  her  forehead  has  the  wrinkles  on  it  fer  worryin' 
fer  fear  all  may  not  be  well  wid  ye.  'Tis  a  dear, 
little  mither  yez  have,  Tom.  Some  day  ye'll  not 
have  her.  She  and  I  will  both  be  gone  before  long. 
I'm  payin'  my  own  debt  now  to  her,  Tom.  'Twill 
be  too  late  then  to  pay  yours." 

What  response  Tom  might  have  made  to  this 
appeal  cannot  be  told,  for  at  that  instant  a  step 


134      THE   WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

sounded  on  the  gravel  outside  and  Pennington 
sprang  into  the  hall. 

"Ah  there,  Tom!"  he  cried  heartily,  stepping 
quickly  in  front  of  Bridget  as  if  she  were  totally  in 
visible.  "I've  got  two  seats  for  Lulu  Glaser  in  'The 
Lion  Tamer.'  They  were  turned  in  at  the  agency 
at  the  last  moment  and  'Davie'  at  the  club  snapped 
'em  right  up  for  me.  Come  along !  Don't  waste  any 
time  either !  It's  a  great  show.  Bobo  French  has 
been  sixteen  times ! " 

Bridget's  appeal  had  really  moved  Tom's  heart, 
but,  instinctively  tactful  as  it  had  been,  he  still 
felt  that  she  had  had  no  business  to  interfere- 
especially  to  come  out  there  to  Cambridge  to  see 
him.  Should  he  comply  with  her  tacit  request  to 
come  home  it  would  be  a  direct  acknowledgment  of 
the  propriety  of  her  conduct.  He  now  actually 
wanted  to  go  home,  but  he  wanted  also  to  go  to 
the  theatre  with  Pennington,  who  was  becoming 
more  and  more  friendly.  He  hastily  decided  that 
he  would  go  in  the  next  morning  and  surprise  his 
mother  by  joining  her  at  church.  That  would 
be  just  as  good.  It  would  make  up  for  every 
thing,  and,  besides,  his  mother  could  not  talk  to 
him  during  the  service.  It  would  break  the  ice 
splendidly. 

"Sure,  I'll  come,"  he  said  to  Pennington.  "I'll 
only  be  a  minute !" 

His  friend  was  lighting  a  cigarette  over  the  lamp 
and  Tom  made  signs  to  Bridget  that  he  wished  her 
to  leave  him.  She  remained  mute,  but  her  lips 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       135 

moved  in  a  final  silent  appeal.  He  shook  his  head 
sternly  at  her. 

"Good  night,"  he  said  coldly.  "Thank  you  for 
coming  out.  I'll  be  in  before  long,  and  bring  the 
wash  myself." 

A  deep  flush  spread  itself  over  Bridget's  dig 
nified  features.  She  drew  herself  up  proudly  and 
turned  away  without  a  word. 

"Who's  that  old  party?"  inquired  Pennington. 

"Servant  from  home  about  the  wash,"  an 
swered  Tom.  "Damn  nuisance,  too.  Imagine  her 
coming  at  this  hour !" 

Yet  the  vision  of  his  mother  as  conjured  up  by 
Bridget  remained  with  him  for  a  long  time,  for 
Tom  did  not  go  to  church  next  day. 


XIII 

TOM'S  demoralization  progressed  with  such  ra 
pidity  that  it  soon  became  evident  to  his  clubmates 
that  unless  he  called  a  halt  he  could  expect  neither 
to  graduate  with  his  class  nor  to  hold  his  title  as 
tennis  champion.  True,  deeply  grieved  at  his  in 
difference  and  general  conduct,  had  long  since 
given  up  any  attempt  to  influence  him,  but  now 
Dwight,  the  president  of  the  class,  realizing  that 
something  must  be  done,  took  him  in  hand.  Catch 
ing  the  new  member  at  an  unguarded  moment,  he 
gave  him  to  understand  that  his  associates  were 
by  no  means  pleased  at  the  apparent  effect  of  his 
election  upon  his  character.  It  made  it  seem,  he 
told  Tom,  as  if  the  club's  influence  were  a  bad  one. 
But  most  of  all  Tom  owed  it  to  himself  and  to  his 
mother  to  pull  himself  together  and  finish  his  col 
lege  course  with  what  credit  he  could. 

Deeply  chagrined,  Tom  took  his  medicine  with 
meekness,  forswore  all  dances  and  drinking,  and 
by  heroic  exertions  managed  both  to  retain  his 
title  and  take  his  degree.  He  had,  at  last,  renewed 
his  practice  of  going  home  on  Sundays,  and  for  a 
time  he  seemed  to  his  mother  more  like  his  old  self 
— the  rather  shabby  but  virile  self  that  she  loved 
— but  once  the  examinations  were  over  and  he  had 

136 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       137 

successfully  escaped  the  yawning  jaws  of  failure, 
the  longing  for  something  different  came  upon  him 
again.  After  all,  he  had  had,  he  assured  himself, 
little  enough  pleasure  in  college.  He  had  made 
The  "Woolsack"  too  late  for  it  to  do  him  any  par 
ticular  good.  What  he  had  read  of  the  great  world 
outside — of  New  York  and  Newport — filled  him 
with  a  keen  desire  to  see  it  for  himself,  taste  of  its 
pleasures  and  perhaps  of  its  victories.  Was  he  not 
the  champion  tennis-player  of  the  university?  He 
must  go  to  Newport  to  enter  the  lists  for  the  na 
tional  title.  Even  if  he  did  not  win,  he  would  at 
least  see  Newport.  Who  could  tell  what  might 
be  in  store  for  him?  So  when  Allyn  Scott  sug 
gested  casually  that  he  had  better  come  to  them 
for  a  month  in  the  middle  of  the  summer  and  get 
"acclimated"  for  the  national  tournament,  Torn 
accepted  the  invitation  with  alacrity  and  without 
consulting  his  mother.  She,  poor  lady,  was  nearing 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadows.  But  she  only  entered 
a  feeble  protest  to  Tom's  declaration  that  he  in 
tended  to  spend  a  month  or  so  at  Newport.' 

"But  you  don't  expect  me  to  go  there,  do  you?" 
she  asked  timidly. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not!"  he  answered.  "You 
wouldn't  want  to  be  staying  at  a  boarding-house 
in  a  place  where  I  was  visiting." 

His  unexpressed  idea — none  the  less  patent  to 
her — was  that  it  would  be  embarrassing  for  him 
to  have  her  there — might  involve  introductions  or 
other  complications;  it  would  be  much  better  for 


138      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

her  to  go  to  East  Bethlehem,  or  some  one  of  those 
places,  where  he  could  join  her  later  on  in  the 
summer,  the  early  part  of  which  he  intended  to 
spend  at  Cambridge  in  a  rigorous  preparatory 
course  of  physical  training.  Unseen  by  her  son 
the  old  lady's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  was  proud 
of  Tom's  tennis-playing,  and  she  had  hoped  that 
he  would  express  the  wish  to  have  her  present  in 
Newport  at  the  tournament.  But  he  advanced 
no  suggestion  of  the  kind.  His  mind  was  already 
glamoured  of  the  unknown.  So  Mrs.  Kelly  made 
her  modest  preparations  to  spend  the  summer  by 
herself.  It  was  significant  that  for  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  their  relations  Bridget  offered  to 
accompany  her  in  the  capacity  of  maid,  but  the 
offer  was  refused.  With  a  pang  in  the  heart  Mrs. 
Kelly  recognized  the  fact  that  her  influence  over 
Tom  was  gone — that  he  was  drifting  away  from 
her. 

Class  day  came  with  its  flowers,  its  swarms  of 
little  girls  and  their  mammas,  its  lemonade,  its 
salad,  and  its  diluted  punch.  Across  the  Yard,  be 
tween  the  trees,  hung  row  on  row  of  Chinese  lan 
terns.  Seniors  in  cap  and  gown  hurried  ostenta 
tiously  from  building  to  building,  or  escorted  nervous 
damsels,  with  elaborate  courtesy,  to  the  various 
exercises.  The  sedate  old  college,  at  all  other  seasons 
the  quintessence  of  conservatism,  to-day  exhibited 
a  shocking  degree  of  frivolity.  There  were  white 
dresses  everywhere — with  blue,  red,  green,  and 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       139 

pink  sashes  that  hit  the  onlooker  violently  between 
the  eyes.  The  elmed  arcades  "  where  the  good  and 
the  great  in  their  glorious  prime"  had  "musingly 
trod,"  presented  an  appearance  about  as  dignified 
and  an  atmosphere  of  culture  nearly  as  rare  as  a 
country  circus.  Perspiring  negroes  carrying  huge 
"cans"  of  ice-cream  staggered  hither  and  thither. 
Strange  processions  of  country  cousins  meandered 
down  the  paths  or  across  the  grass,  convoyed  by 
self-conscious  seniors.  Young  gentlemen  who  for 
four  years  had  been  assumed  to  be  connected  with 
only  the  choicest  of  Beacon  Street  families,  and 
whose  raiment  and  diction  had  indicated  that  be 
yond  peradventure  they  were  of  the  Brahmin  caste, 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  company  of  the  most 
peculiar-looking  relations.  In  fact  the  "show 
down"  had  come.  No  longer  could  pretense  avail. 
In  a  word,  one  had  to  stand  or  fall  by  one's  rela 
tives. 

At  the  "Woolsack,"  as  at  all  other  self-respect 
ing  clubs,  a  cold  feast  or  "spread"  (as  it  is  still 
called)  had  been  prepared,  to  which  the  graduating 
members  bade  whom  they  wished — Mr.  Russell  and 
Evelyn  were  there,  and  Mrs.  Kelly.  It  was  the 
sole  occasion  upon  which  Tom's  mother,  profiting 
by  her  son's  elevation  in  the  world,  had  made  her 
appearance  among  his  new  friends,  and  she  came 
with  the  utmost  reluctance,  apprehensive  lest  she 
might  do  or  say  something  which  would  militate 
to  his  disadvantage.  But  Tom  and  Frank  True 
between  them  managed  to  make  her  feel  a  little 


140      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

at  home,  and  after  taking  her  to  the  "Tree,"  where 
half-clad  giants  battled  for  flowers,  and  to  the  club 
house,  where  she  partook  of  tea,  ice-cream,  and 
salad,  surrounded  by  the  elite  of  Boston  society, 
they  placed  her  on  a  car  bound  for  Boston,  her  cup 
of  happiness,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  filled  to 
overflowing. 

Under  the  circumstances  it  is  hardly  surprising 
that  Tom's  youthful  fancies  lightly  turned  to  those 
thoughts  commonly  supposed  to  be  induced  by 
spring.  During  his  recent  social  career  he  had, 
indulged  in  several  trifling  flirtations  with  Back 
Bay  debutantes,  and  he  had  gained  a  confidence 
which  he  had  lacked  earlier  in  his  college  course. 
To-day  the  sight  of  Evelyn  had  revived  in  him 
all  those  emotions  which  he  had  felt  on  first  meet 
ing  her  in  the  Yard.  Truly,  she  was  a  slender, 
dark-eyed  goddess — a  Diana  or  a  Hebe — compared 
with  those  other  giggling  little  girls.  Hitherto  he 
had  assumed  that  she  had  already  given  her  affec 
tions  to  Frank  True,  yet  unconsciously  he  had  all 
the  while  cherished  a  faint  hope  that  he  might  prove 
wrong.  Three  years  had  passed  since  he  had  first 
enshrined  her  in  his  heart,  and  while  perhaps  the 
fire  upon  the  altar  lacked  something  of  the  inten 
sity  of  the  first  fierce  blaze  into  which  it  had  burst 
upon  the  unexpected  renewal  of  their  childhood's 
acquaintance,  it  burned  none  the  less  steadily. 
Evelyn  herself,  however,  had  shown  no  inclination 
to  encourage  sentiment.  Wisely  she  had  eschewed 
the  personal  note,  while  Tom  had  recognized  that 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       141 

marriage,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  abso 
lutely  out  of  the  question.  In  deference  to  his 
mother's  wishes,  he  had  intended  to  follow  in  his 
father's  footsteps  and  become  a  member  of  the 
bar.  Should  this  purpose  be  carried  out  it  would 
mean  three  more  years  at  the  Harvard  Law  School 
and  an  apprenticeship  of  from  three  to  five  years 
in  a  law  office  in  Boston  before  he  could  hope  to 
support  a  wife  in  anything  much  better  than  a 
polite  poverty.  He  certainly  had  no  reasonable 
expectation  of  being  able  within  a  period  of  less 
than  ten  years  to  offer  Evelyn  home  comforts  such 
as  she  then  enjoyed. 

Thus  his  attitude  toward  Evelyn  perforce  be 
came  more  that  of  a  friend  than  of  a  lover — which 
was  probably,  in  any  event,  all  she  would  have 
permitted  it  to  be. 

But,  now,  on  this  his  Class  Day  his  heart's  hope 
revived.  After  all  he  had  no  definite  reason  to  be 
lieve  that  she  was  engaged  to  Frank.  To  be  sure, 
the  latter  was  always  at  the  Russell's  house,  but 
for  that  matter,  so  was  he.  And  after  all  Frank 
was  nothing  but  a  cripple,  charming  fellow  as  he 
was.  Moreover,  he  himself  was  a  far  more  desir 
able  parti  than  when  he  had  first  known  her.  Then 
he  had  been  a  shabby  sort  of  dark  horse — a  social 
derelict,  almost  a  grind.  Now  he  was  the  college 
tennis  champion,  a  member  of  an  ultra  smart  club, 
a  popular  man.  That  might  easily  make  a  differ 
ence — the  difference. 

Class  Day  was  the  day  when  everybody  "got 


142       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

engaged."  In  all  the  novels  and  stories  about 
university  life  which  he  had  read,  the  collegian 
hero  always  selected  Class  Day  as  the  opportune 
moment  for  protesting  his  undying  affection  for 
his  beloved.  It  was  true  that  for  Tom  college  fic 
tion  had  proved  but  a  poor  camera  obscura  of  actual 
conditions,  nevertheless,  it  had  had  its  influence 
upon  his  ideas.  If  he  didn't  propose  to  Evelyn  on 
Class  Day,  some  other  fellow  probably  would,  and 
who  knew  what  she  might  do?  No,  he  must  not 
only  square  himself  with  her  for  past  neglect,  but 
he  must  make  up  for  it  by  then  and  there  offering 
her  his  heart  and  hand. 

And,  indeed,  what  more  opportune  occasion  for 
words  of  love  can  there  ever  be  than  that  offered 
by  the  evening  hours  of  Class  Day  to  the  couple 
wandering  among  the  shadows  of  the  overarching 
elms?  For  young  Mr.  Smith  the  future  lies 
stretched  out — a  plain,  well-marked  highway — 
leading  across  comfortable  and  smiling  valleys  to 
the  mysterious  and  happy  mountains  of  Fame 
and  Fortune.  He  is  full  of  the  egotism  and  en 
thusiasm  of  youth.  He  is  ignorant  of  the  mocking 
insincerities  of  the  world.  He  feels  his  strength 
as  the  strength  of  ten,  because  his  heart  is  pretty 
nearly  pure.  To  young  Miss  Jones  he  is  a  warrior 
going  forth  to  combat,  certain  of  victory,  of  pop 
ular  applause,  of  glory.  They  are  sitting,  perhaps, 
in  the  cushioned  window  of  his  room,  where  prob 
ably  mamma  or  aunty  with  discreet  intention  has 
left  them  to  themselves.  Below  them,  in  the  gentle 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       143 

night  wind  the  Chinese  lanterns  sway  and  blink 
among  the  leaves,  yellow  lights  flicker  in  a  hundred 
windows,  vague  figures,  hand  in  hand  or  arm  in 
arm,  glide  among  the  tree  trunks  or  sit  close  to 
gether  upon  the  stone  steps  of  the  old  buildings, 
and  from  the  end  of  the  Yard  the  last  strains  of 
"Fair  Harvard,"  played  by  a  sentimental  regimental 
band  from  Cambridgeport,  linger  and  die  slowly 
away. 

How  could  any  well-regulated  senior  escape  a 
declaration  under  such  circumstances?  Otherwise 
what  business  would  he  have  to  sit  at  such  a  time 
in  a  cushioned  window  with  any  girl?  Thus,  fol 
lowing  the  line  of  least  resistance,  many  an  inno 
cent  collegian  finds  himself  enmeshed  in  the  net  of 
matrimony  before  he  has  as  yet  fairly  determined 
how  he  is  going  to  earn  his  bread  and  butter. 

Tom  stood  beside  Evelyn  as  she  sat  ensconced 
on  the  window-seat  of  his  room  in  Thayer's  Hall  and 
the  last  lines  of  the  college  song  sung  by  three  thou 
sand  young  voices  faded  out  of  hearing.  She  seemed 
deeply  stirred  as,  with  lips  slightly  parted,  she 
gazed  through  the  trees  to  where  the  distant  mu 
sicians  were  disbanding.  They  had  not  spoken 
for  several  minutes.  In  the  dim  reflections  cast 
by  the  lanterns  among  the  branches,  her  face  had 
the  same  sweet  allurement  that  it  had  had  when, 
after  ten  years,  he  had  seen  her  for  the  first  time 
in  the  flickering  firelight  of  her  father's  study. 
He  felt  a  sudden  and  overpowering  tenderness, 
which  coincided  with  an  instinctive  recognition 


144       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

that  this  was  the  appropriate  moment  for  what 
must  necessarily  be  a  purely  factitious  demon 
stration.  He  could  not  marry !  He  knew  it !  An 
indefinite  engagement?  What  right  had  he  to 
ask  it  of  her?  And  yet  he  felt  convinced  from 
the  palpitation  of  his  heart  and  the  trembling  in 
his  limbs  that  he  loved  Evelyn  whether  he  had 
any  business  to  tell  her  so  or  not.  Perhaps  she 
expected  him  to  tell  her.  What  harm  would  it 
do  anyway?  He  must  speak  now — before  she 
turned  her  head — or  it  would  be  too  late.  He 
could  never  speak  looking  straight  into  those  eyes. 
So  Tom  Kelly,  moved  both  by  a  pardonable  emo 
tion  and  a  literary  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things, 
threw  his  fate  into  the  balance  and  said  in  a  strange 
and  peculiar  voice,  in  which  excitement,  embar-, 
rassment,  and  tenderness  figured  equally: 

"Evelyn,  I  love  you!  You  know  I  love  you!" 
At  this  point  in  the  story-books  the  senior  in 
evitably  places  his  arm  around  the  waist  of  the 
girl  in  the  window,  who  thereupon  leans  her  head 
against  his  manly  shoulder  and  bursts  into  tears. 
But  in  this  particular  presentation  of  the  ancient 
college  drama  the  leading  lady  failed  to  follow  her 
cue. 

Tom  had  no  sooner  uttered  the  words  than  he 
appreciated  the  fatuity  of  the  occasion  which  he 
had  selected  for  his  purpose.  With  a  hundred 
times  better  grace  could  he  have  spoken  them  six 
months  before!  He  had  deliberately  neglected 
Evelyn  for  half  a  year,  and  in  the  face  of  that 


,      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       145 

neglect  he  was  assuming  to  ask  her  to  be  his 
wife — on  the  strength  of  what  ?  His  membership  in 
the  "Woolsack"?  His  college  championship?  His 
wasted  opportunities  ?  His  winter  of  frivolity  ?  With 
a  sudden  fall  in  his  blood  temperature,  he  grasped 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  an  inexcusable 
presumption.  What  had  Evelyn  said  or  done  to 
justify  him  in  the  belief  that  this  sudden  declara 
tion  would  be  acceptable  to  her?  Was  it  not,  under 
the  circumstances,  almost  an  affront?  And  in  the 
same  instant  he  perceived  the  real  depth  of  his 
feeling  for  her  and  cursed  himself  for  having 
jeopardized  his  chances  by  speaking  at  such  a 
time.  If  only  he  could  have  recalled  his  words! 
Why  did  she  not  reply?  Had  he,  in  truth,  offended 
her? 

For  Evelyn  did  not  reply.  She  seemed  to  be 
watching  something  fixedly  among  the  trees  and 
to  be  oblivious  of  what  he  had  said.  The  moments 
passed— hours  they  seemed  to  Tom — and  still  she 
did  not  speak.  Had  she,  in  fact,  failed  to  hear 
him?  Or  was  she  deliberately  ignoring  his  remarks 
as  the  kindest  thing  to  do?  The  blood  leaped  tu- 
multuously  to  his  neck  and  face.  Oh,  what  a  fool 
he  was ! 

Then  Evelyn  lifted  her  head,  smiling  radiantly, 
tenderly,  at  some  one.  There  was  a  crunching 
on  the  gravel  outside  the  window  and  a  shadow 
limped  forward  out  of  the  darkness. 

"Hello,  Evelyn !"  came  the  cheery  voice  of  Frank 
True  out  of  the  shadows.  "Hello,  Tom !" 


146       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

And  once  again  our  hero's  universe  rocked  and 
all  but  toppled. 

"Hello — Frank,  dear!"  answered  Evelyn  softly. 

A  week  later,  upon  the  platform  of  Saunder's 
Theatre,  Tom,  with  his  assembled  classmates  in 
cap  and  gown,  received  from  the  president  of  the 
university  an  imitation  parchment  degree  and  was 
proclaimed  at  the  same  moment  as  thenceforth 
belonging  to  the  " Brotherhood  of  Educated  Men." 
The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that,  although  so  chris 
tened  by  America's  most  distinguished  educator, 
Tom  was  not  an  educated  man;  he  was  an  imita 
tion  educated  man,  who,  to  be  sure,  though  spurious, 
was  by  no  means  a  bad  counterfeit  of  what  he  was 
declared  to  be.  Of  culture  in  its  true  sense  he  had 
none.  The  warehouse  of  his  brain  had  merely  been 
equipped  with  a  large  variety  of  intellectual  window- 
dressings.  For  four  years  he  had  wandered  lacka 
daisically  through  college  electives  chosen  with  no 
systematic  purpose  except  to  secure  a  degree  with 
a  minimum  amount  of  work  and  the  maximum 
amount  of  leisure.  He  could'  talk  with  a  certain 
glibness  about  Chaucer,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  and 
Thomas  Love  Peacock;  or  of  Kant,  Hegel,  and 
Schopenhauer.  He  had  taken  elementary  courses 
in  mediaeval  history,  economics,  fine  arts,  music, 
psychology,  ethics,  architecture,  Shakespeare,  the 
English  poets  and  novelists,  botany,  zoology,  ge 
ology,  French,  German,  and  chemistry.  He  had 
pursued  no  subject  with  thoroughness,  and  what 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       147 

knowledge  he  had  was  superficial.  He  had  attended 
the  smallest  number  of  lectures  demanded  by  the 
authorities,  done  the  least  amount  of  reading  per 
missible,  and  passed  his  examinations  simply  by 
cramming  his  head,  for  temporary  purposes  only, 
during  a  three  weeks'  period  at  the  end  of  each  term. 
As  a  result  his  mind  had  lost  most  of  its  power  of 
concentration. 

He  had  no  real  philosophy  and  no  genuine  theory 
of  morals.  After  the  inevitable  Freshman  excite 
ment  over  the  problem  of  why  he  should  not  "go 
on  the  loose,"  he  had  relapsed  into  a  state  of  moral 
indifference.  He  had  glanced  over  the  works  of 
several  celebrated  agnostics  offered  for  his  delec 
tation  by  his  friend  Peters,  and  he  had  perused,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Russell,  several  utilitarian 
and  materialistic  works  by  Locke,  Mill,  and  others, 
but  they  had  helped  him  to  no  conclusion,  and  to 
his  confused  state  of  mind,  science  and  religion 
seemed  to  have  fought  a  drawn  battle.  One  phi 
losophy  seemed  about  as  convincing  as  another. 
He  had  lost  all  faith  in  the  God  or  Gods  of  his  child 
hood,  and  the  theological  dogmas  imbibed  at  the 
same  period  seemed  to  him  no  longer  to  have  any 
significance.  He  recognized  the  beauty  of  religion, 
yet  questioned  the  existence  of  a  religious  instinct. 
Yet  through  this  tangled  forest  of  doubt  and  scep 
ticism  some  unnamed  influence  drew  him  toward 
a  well-marked  path  of  right  conduct.  And,  in  the 
main,  Tom  followed  it,  although  he  could  not  have 
told  why. 


148       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

What,  then,  had  Tom  achieved  by  the  four  years 
spent  in  Cambridge?  Very  little,  it  must  be  con 
fessed.  He  had,  during  the  first  three  years,  at 
least  gained  in  health  and  strength  of  body.  He 
had  acquired  a  trifling  amount  of  trifling  informa 
tion  upon  a  variety  of  subjects,  most  of  which  he 
had  forgotten  as  quickly  as  he  had  learned  it.  He 
had,  it  is  true,  somewhat  broadened  his  knowledge 
of  life,  but  such  a  broadening  would  have  followed 
as  a  matter  of  course,  even  had  he  not  gone  to  col 
lege.  In  a  word,  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  under 
the  elective  system  of  twenty  years  ago,  Tom  Kelly 
was  any  better  off  intellectually  on  leaving  Har 
vard  than  when  he  entered  it.  Morally  he  was 
worse  off.  One  attribute,  however,  he  had  in 
common  with  most  of  his  associates  in  the  "Wool 
sack" — he  enunciated  the  English  language  dis 
tinctly  and  had  a  creditably  large  and  accurate 
vocabulary.  To  this  extent  his  education  had  not 
been  an  entire  failure.  But  Tom  had  not  been 
happy,  which  it  is  not  only  the  prerogative  but 
the  duty  of  youth  to  be. 


XIV 

THE  smart  brougham  carrying  Tom  Kelly  to 
"Beausejour,"  the  Newport  summer  home  of  the 
Scotts,  rolled  up  the  crushed  blue-stone  drive,  set 
with  blue  Californian  spruce  to  match,  rounded  the 
flower-bordered  circle  and  came  to  a  stop  before 
the  portico.  The  groom,  a  dapper  little  English 
man,  who  reminded  Tom  strikingly  of  Pennington, 
jumped  down  from  his  seat  beside  the  pink-faced 
coachman  and  whipped  open  the  door  with  a  quick 
touch  of  his  cap.  Both  men  were  dressed  in  im 
maculate  livery  and  both  seemed  scornfully  im 
personal. 

It  was  Tom's  second  visit  to  Newport,  and  its  con 
trast  with  the  first  had  been  vividly  in  his  mind  as, 
reclining  upon  the  soft  cushions,  he  had  been  whirled 
proudly  up  Rhode  Island  Avenue.  Now  he  felt  quite 
at  ease.  He  was  fully  aware  that  his  tailor,  to  whom 
he  was  heavily  in  debt,  had  made  a  good  job  of 
him,  and  that  his  new  blue-serge  suit  fitted  his 
figure  to  a  nicety.  Around  his  straw  hat  was  a 
colored  band  indicating  to  the  world  that  he  was 
one  of  the  elect  of  Harvard,  and  on  his  hands,  or 
rather  in  one  hand,  was  a  pair  of  those  very  yellow 
chamois  gloves  that  had  so  aroused  his  contempt 


150       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

when  adorning  the  hands  of  Catherwood  in  the  gal 
lery  of  Memorial  Hall  only  three  short  years  be 
fore.  The  wheel  of  his  fortunes  had  certainly 
revolved  since  those  dull  days,  and  now  he  was 
triumphantly  atop  of  it.  He  remembered  how  he 
and  his  mother,  taking  their  afternoon  strolls,  she 
with  her  tiny  black  sunshade  acock,  had  paused  be 
fore  those  very  granite  pillars  bearing  the  insignia 
of  "Beausejour,"  and  gazed  timidly  up  the  driveway 
through  which  he,  a  welcome  guest,  had  just  been 
swept  in  regal  state.  Then,  they  had  been  in  mo 
mentary  apprehension  lest  some  gardener  or  other 
functionary  should  tell  them  to  move  along.  Now, 
the  very  gates  swung  open  at  his  approach.  It  made 
him  think  of  that  vocal  exercise  their  old  instructor 
in  Freshman  elocution  had  given  them.  He  had 
been  a  well-meaning  but  rather  ridiculous  little 
man  who,  placing  his  finger-tips  upon  the  point 
of  his  swelling  waistcoat  directly  above  his  navel, 
was  accustomed  to  say  in  a  voice  pregnant  with 
adenoids: 

"Remember,    gentlemen,    the    abdomen    is    the 
centre  of  the  personality.    Now,  after  me,  gentle 


men!3 


Then  he  would  intone  in  a  hollow  bellow: 

"O-pen — wide  your — gates  ! 

"King  John — your  King  and  England's — doth 
appro-o-ach ! " 

Tom  laughed,  mentally  substituting  "King  Tom" 
for  "King  John." 

"O-pen  wide — your  gates!"  he  had  chanted  in  a 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       151 

whisper,  as  they  had  rolled  toward  the  house. 
"King  Tom — your  King  and  Newport's — doth  ap 
proach!" 

He  was  a  little  in  doubt  as  to  whether  he  should 
slip  the  little  groom  anything  or  not,  but  concluded 
that  there  was  no  indication  of  expectancy  in  the 
man's  manner.  So  he  sprang  out  of  the  brougham, 
nodding  a  "Thank  you,"  and  reached  back  for  his 
racket-cases.  The  groom  had  them,  however,  and 
was  already  engaged  in  handing  them,  together 
with  his  new  pigskin  English  kit-bag,  to  the  foot 
man  in  blue  livery  who  had  mysteriously  appeared 
from  behind  one  of  the  marble  pillars.  The  carriage 
drove  away,  leaving  him  standing  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  afternoon  sun  on  the  red  tiles  of  the  white 
stucco  porch.  A  tall  gray-haired  man  now  emerged 
from  the  doorway. 

"Mrs.  Scott  is  resting,"  said  he  respectfully,  "and 
both  gentlemen  are  out  on  the  water.  Will  you 
go  to  your  room,  sir?" 

It  was  but  four  o'clock  of  a  brilliant  July  day, 
and  rich  odors  from  the  near-by  garden  floated 
across  the  driveway.  Tom  had  expected  Allyn  to 
meet  him.  It  was  a  pity  to  waste  such  a  beautiful 
afternoon.  He  might  have  got  in  a  few  practice 
sets  of  tennis.  Still,  the  footman  seemed  to  think 
he  ought  to  go  to  his  room,  and  the  fellow  probably 
knew.  The  heavy  shadows  of  the  massive  hall 
were  almost  chilly  after  the  heat  of  the  roadway 
and  it  was  quite  dark  in  there.  He  made  out  a 
huge  white  marble  fireplace,  in  imitation  of  the  one 


152       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

at  Blois,  and  some  white  marble  seats,  upon  which 
were  thrown  with  elaborate  carelessness  a  few 
crimson  velvet  cushions.  Up  a  broad,  thickly  car 
peted  staircase  he  followed  the  footman  to  a  land 
ing  leading  to  the  "bachelor's  wing,"  and  thence 
down  a  long  silent  hall  to  the  end,  where  a  door 
was  standing  ajar. 

"In  here,  sir,"  said  the  man,  preceding  him. 

Tom  inspected  with  amazement  his  new  training 
quarters — the  "royal  suite,"  or  whatever  it  might 
be  called.  He  had  had  no  previous  conception  of 
the  opulence  of  his  friend's  family.  A  bright  In 
dian  rug  covered  two-thirds  of  the  polished  hard 
wood  floor.  Over  a  wide  fireplace  hung  a  stag's 
head — a  "royal" — an  ivory  tag  giving  the  place 
and  date  of  its  execution:  "Dunrobin,  September 
21,  1893."  Dainty  cerise-silk  curtains  hung  from 
the  valanced  windows,  and  the  single  "two-thirds" 
bed  was  covered  with  a  spread  of  the  same  ma 
terial.  Where  the  pillow  should  have  been,  ac 
cording  to  the  etiquette  of  Newbury  Street,  was 
a  round  bolster  also  of  silk.  There  were  easy 
chairs  of  leather  and  wicker,  a  polar-bear  rug  lay 
in  front  of  the  fireplace,  and  engravings  of  English 
beauties  alternating  with  sporting  prints,  hung 
over  the  bed  and  along  the  walls.  A  round  table 
offered  the  current  weekly  and  monthly  magazines 
placed  in  neat,  overlapping  rows,  and,  lest  they 
should  prove  too  intellectually  exhausting,  against 
the  wall  was  a  sort  of  sideboard  ranged  on  which 
were  boxes  of  cigars  and  cigarettes  of  different 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       153 

brands  and  sizes,  and  a  row  of  decanters  with  a 
bucket  of  cracked  ice  and  aerated  waters. 

"Whew!"  thought  Tom.    "This  is  pretty  soft!" 

"The  bath  is  here,  sir,"  said  the  man,  opening 
another  door. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  answered  Tom,  not  knowing 
whether  it  was  comme  il  faut  to  express  apprecia 
tion  of  one's  accommodations  in  a  friend's  house. 
"Holy  Mike!"  was  what  he  in  fact  remarked  to 
himself  at  sight  of  the  "bath."  It  was  an  enormous 
room,  tiled  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  fitted  with 
every  known  device  for  cleansing  and  refreshing 
the  human  body.  Showers,  sitz  and  needle  baths 
supplemented  the  more  plebeian  services  of  a  porce 
lain  tub  raised  on  silver  claws  and  standing  in  the 
middle  of  a  white  glazed  desert.  French  soaps  in 
sealed  packages  lay  at  hand  and  a  series  of  glass 
rods  held  woolly  Turkish  towels  as  big  as  table 
cloths.  It  made  Tom  want  to  strip  at  once.  And 
he  had  already  resolved  to  have  a  drink  as  soon  as 
he  should  be  left  alone.  The  valet  finished  arrang 
ing  the  contents  of  the  valise  upon  the  dressing- 
table  and  in  the  wardrobe  and,  having  asked  Tom 
for  his  trunk-check,  announced  that  Mrs.  Scott 
always  had  tea  at  five  on  the  terrace,  and  then 
withdrew.  Tom  examined  everything  all  over 
again  with  great  enjoyment. 

"Golly!"  he  repeated  under  his  breath.  "This 
is  all  right.  Pretty  soft,  eh?"  And,  as  he  took 
in  appreciatively  the  fine  points  of  a  steel-engraved 
Grecian  lady  coyly  emerging  from  the  Ionian  Sea 


154      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

without  any  dampness  being  visible  upon  her  pol 
ished  limbs,  his  mind  reverted  for  an  instant  with 
grim  satisfaction  to  the  tin  tub  shared  in  rotation 
by  the  boarders  at  the  "Mountain  Home  House." 
Then  he  stepped  over  to  the  window-seat  and  looked 
out  upon  a  rose-garden  in  full  bloom. 

A  marble  sun-dial  stood  in  the  centre  and  on  a 
bench  in  the  shade  of  a  high  green  border  sat  a 
young  woman  apparently  reading.  The  sight  of 
her  set  Tom's  heart  thumping,  for  she  seemed  to 
him  the  most  beautiful,  ethereal  creature  he  had 
ever  seen.  She  was  a  slender  brunette,  and  her 
dark  hair  was  curiously  arranged  like  a  huge  halo 
above  her  heavily  pencilled  eyebrows.  Just  at 
that  moment,  as  if  moved  to  retrospection  by  some 
thing  she  had  been  reading,  she  looked  up  and 
their  eyes  met.  Hers  were  soft,  brown,  and  startled. 
She  blushed  slightly,  gave  an  almost  imperceptible 
acknowledgment  of  his  presence  by  a  slight  in 
clination  of  her  head,  and  looked  swiftly  down 
again.  Tom,  feeling  guiltily  that  he  had  violated 
a  maiden's  privacy,  hastily  backed  away  from  the 
window.  But  his  blood  was  all  astir  and  his  pulses 
beat  in  unruly  turmoil.  Who  was  she?  Well,  he'd 
find  out  at  tea  time,  anyhow !  He  poured  out  a 
drink  for  himself,  and,  selecting  a  small,  claro  cigar 
of  an  unusual  shape,  he  lit  it  and  then  threw  him 
self  back  luxuriously  in  one  of  the  leather  chairs. 
The  whole  thing  seemed  a  wonderful  enchantment. 
The  house  was  like  the  palace  of  the  Sleeping 
Beauty — only  she  was  not  sleeping.  He  wondered 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       155 

what  she  would  look  like  asleep !  How  black  that 
riot  of  hair  would  look  against  a  pillow!  After  a 
time  he  arose  from  the  chair  and  glanced  stealthily 
out  of  the  other  window.  She  was  gone.  The 
shadow  of  the  hedge  had  crept  across  the  green 
where  stood  the  sun-dial.  He  almost  doubted 
that  she  had  been  there.  A  humming-bird  came 
and  hovered  uncertainly  for  a  moment  just  beneath 
him,  and  then  likewise  disappeared.  From  a  dis 
tance  he  could  hear  the  soft  vibrations  of  a  piano 
whenever  the  unseen  player  struck  the  upper  notes. 
He  looked  at  his  watch  and  discovered  that  it  was 
already  a  quarter  to  five. 

"Fallen  on  your  feet  this  time,  Tommy,  old 
boy!"  he  again  congratulated  himself,  wondering 
what  it  cost  to  run  such  an  establishment.  And 
he  was  getting  the  whole  benefit  of  it  for  nothing ! 

He  washed  his  face  and  hands,  brushed  his  hair 
and,  having  put  on  a  clean  collar  and  fresh  tie,  ven 
tured  forth  to  find  the  "terrace."  A  footman  arose 
from  out  of  the  shadows  in  the  front  hall  and  di 
rected  him  through  a  drawing-room  crowded  with 
bric-a-brac  and  ornate  furniture  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  house,  where  a  lawn  sloped  gradually 
away  from  a  veranda  lined  with  Chinese  vases  full 
of  flowering  shrubs.  Near  a  flight  of  stone  steps 
leading  to  another  grassy  slope  he  could  see  a  couple 
of  ladies  sitting  beside  a  wicker  table  on  which 
shone  various  articles  of  silver.  The  thought  of 
approaching  them  alone  and  announcing  himself 
filled  him  with  terror  and  he  doubled  back  to  the 


156      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

veranda.  He  was  on  the  point  of  fleeing  to  the 
protection  of  the  "bachelor  wing"  when  he  heard 
voices  in  the  hall  and  saw  Allyn  coming  through 
the  drawing-room  in  the  company  of  two  other 
men. 

"Hello,  Allyn!"  he  said,  going  to  meet  them. 

"Hello,  Tom!"  answered  his  friend.  "We've 
been  off  on  the  Siren  to  judge  a  race-^otherwise 
I'd  have  been  here  to  meet  you.  Father — this  is 
Tom  Kelly." 

The  tall  man  with  narrow  face,  high,  arched  nose 
and  pale-gray  eyes,  who  had  followed  Allyn  to  the 
veranda,  bowed  rather  stiffly  and  held  out  his  hand 
for  Tom  to  shake.  His  manner  was  perfunctorily 
courteous,  but  detached,  and  he  gave  the  impres 
sion  of  being  somewhat  bored  with  the  particular 
thing  which  he  happened  to  be  doing  but  in  hope 
that  the  next  might  prove  more  entertaining. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Kelly,"  he  remarked. 
And  then  added  hastily:  "Yes,  yes,  we  must  get 
out  to  tea  or  your  mother  will  accuse  us  of  lese- 
majesty." 

"And  Mr.  Parradym— Mr.  Kelly,"  added  Allyn. 

The  third  gentleman  struck  Tom  instantly  as 
being  of  an  entirely  different  and  novel  type.  He 
was  rather  stout,  neatly  but  not  smartly  dressed, 
and  had  a  red,  good-natured  face  with  a  large  in 
quiring  nose  and  kindly,  rather  watery,  blue  eyes. 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Kelly — to  be  sure !"  said  he,  giving 
Tom's  hand  a  warm  pressure.  "The  coming  cham 
pion,  we  understand." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       157 

Tom  soon  learned  that  Mr.  Parradym  never 
referred  to  himself  and  always  included  all  those 
present  in  his  conversation. 

The  three,  led  by  Allyn,  crossed  the  terrace, 
and  descended  the  steps  to  the  tea-table. 

"Mother,  this  is  Tom  Kelly,"  repeated  Allyn, 
addressing  a  slender  harmony  in  mauve.  The  lady 
bowed  graciously,  using  her  lorgnette. 

"My  sister — Mrs.  Wingate—  "  continued  Allyn. 

Tom  turned  and  found  himself  bowing  to  the 
girl  of  the  rose-garden.  A  married  woman!  She 
held  out  her  hand,  giving  him  an  intense,  eager 
look.  There  was  something  appealing  in  her  brown 
eyes,  a  note  of  pathos,  as  if  she  vaguely  sought  pro 
tection. 

"You  were  in  the  rose-garden!"  exclaimed  Tom. 
"I  disturbed  you !  I'm  sorry !" 

Allyn  laughed  cynically,  and  the  girl  flashed  a 
look  of  annoyance  at  him. 

"You  can  usually  find  Lulie  in  the  rose-garden 
when  there  are  guests  in  the  bachelor  wing!"  he 
remarked  banteringly. 

Mrs.  Scott  made  an  impatient  gesture,  and  said 
something  to  her  daughter  in  French  which  Tom 
did  not  understand.  He  had  abandoned  French 
after  his  Freshman  year.  Whatever  it  was,  it 
caused  Mrs.  Wingate  to  flush  and  bite  her  lips. 
She  looked  helplessly  at  Tom  and  made  a  slight 
gesture  with  her  shoulders  as  if  she  knew  that  he 
would  understand.  Instantly  his  instinct  of  chivalry 
was  aroused  and  he  would  have  come  valiantly  to 


158       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

her  support  could  he  have  thought  of  anything  to 
say.  It  was  very  rude  of  Allyn  and  cruel  of  his 
mother ! 

"We  had  quite  a  pretty  race,"  said  Mr.  Parradym, 
rescuing  the  situation.  "The  Alethea  won  by  less 
than  a  length !" 

"By  the  way — what  are  the  orders  for  to-night?" 
inquired  Mr.  Scott  of  his  wife. 

"You  and  I  are  dining  with  the  Overtons.  Allyn 
and  Lulie  are  going  to  the  Welfleets',  and  I  ac 
cepted  an  invitation  for  Mr.  Kelly  to  dine  at  the 
Fanshaws',"  she  answered. 

Tom  was  appalled. 

"I— really,"  he  began,  totally  aghast,  "I  don't 
know  Mrs.  Fanshaw — I  haven't  met  her!" 

"That's  nothing!"  Mr.  Scott  informed  him. 
"You  are  what  is  known  as  an  ' available  man.' 
You  not  only  can  dine  out  every  night — you  must 
dine  out  every  night." 

"Cheer  up,"  urged  Mr.  Parradym.  "I'm  dining 
there  myself  and  it's  not  half  bad.  Lots  of  worse 
places.  And  Fanshaw  has  some  very  excellent  old 
Madeira." 

"I  should  die!"  groaned  Tom  quite  naturally, 
and  the  others  laughed  in  spite  of  themselves. 
"Can't  I  stay  at  home?" 

"Look  here,  mother,"  suggested  Allyn  suddenly, 
"I  have  it.  Let  Lulie  chaperon  Tom  to  the  Wei- 
fleets'  and  I'll  take  in  the  Fanshaws'.  They'll  never 
know  the  difference.  The  Welfleets  would  much 
rather  have  him,  anyway — he's  something  new." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       159 

"And  give  you  a  chance  to  make  love  to  Mimi 
Fanshaw!"  shot  back  his  sister  at  him. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  "if  it  would  make  Mr. 
Kelly  any  more  comfortable  not  to  go  alone — of 
course  nobody  cares,  really;  it  will  surely  be  all 
right — if  you  prefer?" 

Tom  glanced  quickly  at  Mrs.  Wingate  and  some 
thing  told  him  that  she  would  not  be  displeased 
if  he  accepted  Allyn's  suggestion.  Already  he  felt 
as  if  some  secret  bond  of  sympathy  existed  between 
them. 

"If  I  have  to  go  out  I'd  much  prefer  to  go  that 
way,"  he  answered.  "Honestly,  I'd  feel  like  a  cat 
in  a  strange  garret — I  shall,  anyway." 

"Only  there'll  be  another  cat  there  that  you 
know !"  chuckled  Allyn. 

And  again  Tom  could  find  no  words. 

The  butler  and  two  footmen  now  made  their 
appearance  for  the  purpose  of  removing  the  tea 
things,  and  Mr.  Scott  decided  that  he  must  go  and 
write  some  letters.  They  all  accordingly  arose. 
Mrs.  Scott  affably  informed  Tom  that  it  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  have  him  with  them  and  then, 
nodding  to  the  others,  walked  stiffly  off  beside  her 
husband. 

"What  happens  now?"  wondered  Tom.  It  was 
only  half  after  five — the  coolness  of  the  evening 
was  creeping  through  the  garden — the  shadows 
reaching  out  across  the  grass — the  loveliest  hour 
of  the  day. 

"Do  you  play  bridge?"  asked  Mrs.  Wingate. 


160       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"No,"  answered  Tom,  feeling  very  stupid,  "I 
never  learned." 

"What  a  shame!" 

Emboldened  by  her  tone,  he  asked:  "Will  you 
teach  me?" 

"I'd  love  to,"  she  answered.  "Anything  you 
like." 

"She  knows  all  sorts  of  games,"  said  Allyn  sig 
nificantly.  "By  George,  Lulie!"  he  whistled,  "you 
and  I  promised  to  go  over  to  the  Langhorns  at  five- 
thirty.  We're  late  now !  Come  along." 

"Some  other  time,  then,"  murmured  Tom.  She 
held  out  her  hand,  and  as  he  pressed  it,  she  turned 
away  leaving,  as  it  were,  a  precious  possession  for 
a  moment  in  his  clasp. 

"You  two  fellows  will  have  to  take  care  of  your 
selves,  Parry,"  remarked  Allyn.  "Why  don't  you 
take  Kelly  down  to  the  Club?" 

"Oh,  I'd  rather  stay  here  and  smoke  a  cigarette," 
answered  Tom.  "That  is,  if  Mr.  Parradym  doesn't 
mind." 

In  truth  he  wished  to  learn  without  delay  every 
thing  there  was  to  know  about  Mrs.  Wingate.  Was 
there  a  Mr.  Wingate,  for  example?  She  was  not 
in  black — could  not  be  a  widow. 

He  took  Parradym's  offered  cigarette,  uncon 
sciously  inspecting  the  brand. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,"  laughed  the  other. 
"They're  Scott's — not  mine.  And  I  tell  him  where 
to  buy  'em — so  I  know  they're  all  right.  Yes," 
he  added  with  a  dry  smile.  "I'm  a  little  brother 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       161 

to  the  rich.  You  might  as  well  Jknow  it  now  as 
later." 

Tom  was  so  taken  aback  by  this  extraordinary 
frankness  that  all  he  could  do  was  to  ask  lamely: 
"Are  you  staying  here?" 

"Oh,  yes !"  replied  Parradym.  "I  usually  spend 
July  here.  Have  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  It's 
a  very  comfortable  house  and  quite  all  right  in 
most  ways!  Besides,  our  hostess  is  an  excellent 
executive,  and  gives  her  husband  his  orders  every 
morning — all  of  us,  in  fact." 

They  had  strolled  the  length  of  the  terrace  and 
instinctively  had  turned  down  another  flight  of 
steps  leading  into  a  grassy  corner  from  which  they 
could  see  the  breakers  surging  against  the  rocks. 

"And  now  to  answer  your  question  about  Mrs. 
Wingate 

"I  didn't  ask  you  anything  about  her,"  inter 
rupted  Tom. 

"Oh,  didn't  you?  Well,  excuse  me,  but  every 
body  does  want  to  know  about  Mrs.  Wingate — yes, 
she  has  a  husband,  really  a  very  good  sort  of  fellow, 
too.  But  they  don't  get  on  for  some  reason — 
several  reasons,  and  as  she  has  three  millions  of 
her  own  she  manages  without  him  very  well." 

"Are  they  divorced?" 

"No — not  so  far  as  I  am  aware,"  answered  Par 
radym.  "But  substantially  so.  Only,  as  there  is 
no  question  of  either  alimony  or  the  custody  of 
children,  they  never  have  thought  it  necessary  to 
go  to  court." 


1 62       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Tom  said  nothing.  It  was  certainly  no  concern 
of  his  what  domestic  arrangements  the  Wingates 
might  choose  to  make  and  yet  for  some  reason  he 
was  disappointed.  His  dream  had  faded  into 
nothing. 

"But  there  are  others!"  murmured  Mr.  Par- 
radym,  as  if  to  himself. 

Tom  began  to  be  secretly  annoyed  with  his  cheery 
faced  fellow  guest.  What  right  had  Parradym  to 
assume  that  he  had  taken  any  sudden  romantic 
interest  in  Mrs.  Wingate? 

"You  wonder  what  business  it  is  of  mine?"  said 
his  new  friend.  "None.  Except  in  so  far  as  a  case- 
hardened  old  social  parasite  ought  to  try  to  keep 
the  game  on  a  fair  basis,  and  give  the  players  the 
benefit  of  his  experience.  You  don't  know  me. 
I've  heard  a  little  about  you.  I  know  more  than 
you  think  from  looking  at  you.  I'm  a  friend  of 
the  family  and  I'm  a  friend  to  all  nice  young  fel 
lows.  We  all  have  our  faults  and  we  all  ought  to 
be  charitable  toward  others.  But  this  is  rather 
a  dangerous  house,  between  you  and  me,  for  a 
young  chap  to  start  in." 

Tom's  annoyance  had  deepened  into  mild  in 
dignation.  Let  this  comfortable  old  "parasite," 
as  he  admitted  that  he  was,  speak  for  himself  and 
not  for  others!  He  was  about  to  let  drop  some 
hint  of  this  sort,  when  Mr.  Parradym  laid  his  hand 
gently  on  Tom's  shoulder. 

"What  a  wonderful  sight!"  he  said,  pointing 
out  toward  the  open  sea.  It  was  true.  The  wind 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       163 

had  fallen  until  the  ocean  lay  undulating  in  long 
streaks  of  near-colors,  off-shades  of  purple,  yellow, 
blue,  and  crimson — like  watered  silk.  A  mile  away 
the  snowy  sails  of  a  square-rigged  yacht  reflected 
the  dazzling  light  of  the  setting  sun.  All  was  still 
save  for  the  slow  splash  of  the  waves  against  the 
rocks  and  the  chirp  of  birds  in  the  bushes  about 
them.  Overhead  the  sky  was  an  arc  of  deepest 
blue. 

"This  is  the  real  immortality  1"  muttered  Par- 
radym. 

Tom  was  only  conscious  that  his  associate  had 
said  something.  He  was  looking,  to  be  sure,  in 
the  direction  of  the  sea,  but  all  he  saw  was  the  ap 
pealing  face  of  Lulie  Wingate. 

"I  beg  your  pardon — what  was  it  you  said?" 
he  asked. 


XV 

"GOT  everything  you  want?" 

Allyn  had  popped  his  head  in  at  the  door  of 
Tom's  room,  where  he  found  the  latter  assisted 
by  a  valet  hastily  getting  into  his  dress  clothes. 
In  reality  the  valet  was  only  in  the  way,  since  Tom 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  what  use  to  make  of 
him  and  found  it  very  inconvenient  when  he  wanted 
to  put  on  his  trousers  to  have  the  fellow  clinging 
to  their  legs.  It  seemed  almost  as  much  of  a 
" stunt"  to  get  into  them  as  to  leap  through  a  hoop, 
but  he  presently  discovered  that,  after  you  had 
inserted  your  leg,  the  valet  released  that  particular 
trouser  at  the  precise  moment  requisite  to  enable 
you  to  get  it  through  to  the  floor  instead  of  leaving 
the  limb  suspended  in  mid-air.  Even  then  the 
process  savored  of  skipping  rope. 

"You  bet  I  have — and  more!"  answered  Tom, 
buttoning  his  suspenders  in  front  while  the  valet 
performed  that  office  for  him  behind.  "I  hope 
I'm  not  late?" 

Allyn  took  out  a  small  watch  the  thickness  of  a 
cheese-knife. 

"It's  only  eight  o'clock,"  he  said.  "The  carriages 
aren't  ordered  until  quarter  past." 

"Don't  you  dine  at  eight?" 

164 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       165 

"Oh,  nobody  ever  gets  anywhere  before  eight- 
thirty.  What  would  be  the  use?  Some  one  would 
be  sure  to  be  late  and  keep  everybody  else  waiting." 

Allyn  filled  himself  a  glass  of  whiskey  and  soda 
from  the  sideboard,  and  lit  a  cigarette  at  the  al 
cohol-burner. 

"Lord,  yes!  Time  to  burn!  Have  a  drink?" 
Tom  nodded.  "  Give  Mr.  Kelly  a  Scotch-and-soda," 
Allyn  added  to  the  valet,  who  having  obeyed,  re 
moved  himself. 

"Here's  howl"  remarked  Tom,  taking  a  long 
pull  at  his  glass.  Smacking  his  lips,  he  gazed  ap 
preciatively  around  the  apartment.  "By  the  way, 
who  is  Parradym?"  he  asked  casually. 

"Parradym?  Oh,  he's  a  good-natured,  easy 
going  sort  of  chap — rather  cynical,  but  kind-hearted 
and  keen  as  a  razor.  I  tell  you,  nothing  gets  by 
old  Parry!  He  could  make  a  lot  of  money  if  he 
wanted  to  work,  but  he  doesn't  want  to.  He's 
been  everywhere,  seen  everything,  read  every  book 
ever  written,  knows  everybody,  but  is  poor  as  a 
church-mouse.  Nobody  knows  exactly  who  he  is, 
and  I  guess  he  isn't  anybody  exactly.  They  say 
he  writes  for  the  magazines  and  newspapers  under 
a  nom  de  plume,  and  manages  to  get  along  in  that 
way,  but  he  only  needs  enough  to  pay  for  his  wash 
because  he  spends  most  of  his  time  visiting  or  play 
ing  golf  on  the  Riviera.  He  told  me  once  his  entire 
winter  had  cost  him  less  than  a  thousand  francs. 
But  I'd  trust  him  with  my  last  sou  and  follow  his 
advice  even  if  it  led  me  over  a  cliff." 


1 66       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"I  wonder  if  it  ever  would  lead  you  over  a  cliff !" 
mused  Tom. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!    Just  a  thought  of  mine." 

"You're  right!"  replied  Allyn.  "I  chose  a  bad 
illustration.  Parradym's  advice  wouldn't  ever  lead 
you  over  a  cliff.  On  the  contrary,  it  can  always  be 
followed  with  perfect  safety.  It  is  the  gospel  of 
expediency  raised  to  its  nth  power — so  much  so  that 
at  times  it  almost  seems  to  be  ' idealistic'  rather 
than  'utilitarian.'  You  remember  'Phil,  4'?  'The 
idio-psychological  theory  of  ethics,'  and  all  that 
rot?  To  be  perfectly  frank,  I  should  say  that  the 
only  danger  from  poor  Parry  would  be  that,  if  you 
followed  his  advice,  you  might  remain  quite  com 
fortable  when  you  ought  to  go  on  over  the  cliff — 
you  remember 

"  'Twere  man's  perdition  to  be  safe 
'When  for  the  Truth  he  ought  to  die'!J) 

This  sudden  flash  startled  Tom. 

"Why,  Allyn!"  he  cried,  "do  you  believe  that? 
I  thought  you  were  a  rank  materialist!" 

Allyn  smiled  rather  wearily. 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  idea  what  I  am,"  he 
answered  as  he  emptied  his  glass  and  replaced  it 
on  the  sideboard.  "And  even  if  I  had,  I'd  prob 
ably  be  mistaken." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Tom.  "How  could 
you  be  mistaken,  if  you  knew  what  you  were?" 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       167 

"Why,  I  mean  that  I  might  think  I  was  one 
thing  and  all  the  time  be  something  else.  My 
reason  might  lead  me  to  accept  a  certain  set  of 
conclusions  as  sound,  and  my  instinct  would  lead 
me  to  follow  another.  I  might  be  an  egoist  in  theory 
and  an  idealist  by  nature.  Sometimes  I  suspect 
that's  the  way  it  is  with  Parry.  Hell  preach  a 
doctrine  of  utter  selfishness  and  give  away  his  last 
quarter  to  a  drunken  tramp — 'to  hurry  him  along 
to  the  bone-yard,7  as  he  says." 

"Whatever  he  is,  I  guess  he's  a  wise  old  guy!" 
answered  Tom.  "I  never  knew  you  thought  about 
such  things,  Allyn !" 

"Think  about  'em!"  groaned  Allyn,  suddenly 
turning  upon  Tom,  the  black  circles  around  his 
eyes  showing  in  strong  contrast  against  the  pallor 
of  his  skin.  "With  me  it's  just  the  other  way  round. 
I've  got  a  chronic,  burning  thirst.  I  drink.  I  have 
to  or  I'd  go  crazy.  But  do  you  suppose  I  believe 
in  it?  No,  I  don't!  In  theory  I'm  a  teetotaler. 
I'm  for  the  grape-juice  and  soft  stuff.  But  that's 
all  the  good  it  does  me !  I'd  go  shouting  for  pro 
hibition  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  and  just 
naturally  turn  into  the  first  saloon.  That  is,  my 
feet  would,  but  my  head  wouldn't.  However,  I'd 
get  the  drink.  That's  the  instinct — the  craving 
of  the  body,  that  drives  me  along,  just  as  some 
other  fellow's  instinct  would  drive  him  along — over 
the  cliff  maybe — when  he  knew  or  thought  he  knew 
— that  he  was  an  ass  for  going." 

"Mrs.  Scott  sent  me  up  to  say  that  the  carriage 


1 68       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

was  waiting,"  said  the  valet  appearing  at  the  door, 
and  both  boys  ran  hastily  down  the  corridor. 

In  the  hall  were  Mrs.  Wingate  and  Parradym, 
the  host  and  hostess  having  already  gone  along, 
while  at  the  door  stood  two  broughams,  their  lamps 
lighted. 

"Jump  in  with  Lulie,  Tom!"  directed  Allyn. 
"I'll  probably  drop  over  to  the  Welfleets'  along 
about  eleven.  See  you  then,  old  man." 

Mrs.  Wingate  was  already  lifting  her  skirt  to 
get  into  the  first  carriage  and  displaying  in  the 
process  a  ravishingly  slender  ankle.  She  turned 
and  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  Tom. 

"Will  you  follow  me?"  she  asked  archly. 

"Anywhere!"  answered  Tom  for  her  ear  alone, 
yet  he  felt  that  he  would  have  proclaimed  it  joy 
ously  from  the  housetops  with  all  the  world  lis 
tening.  He  sprang  up  the  steps  and  seated  himself 
beside  her,  his  body  tingling  as  he  felt  his  arm  touch 
ing  the  delicate  texture  of  her  white  wrap,  from 
which  her  face  gleamed  like  that  of  a  gypsy;  and 
he  turned  intending  to  cast  a  glance  of  scorn  at 
Parradym  through  the  open  window.  The  ruddy 
countenance  of  that  gentleman  was  already  there, 
however. 

"Deal  gently  with  the  boy,  Lulie!"  said  Parra 
dym  good-humoredly.  "I  have  told  him  you  were 
a  Serpent  of  Old  Nile!" 

The  brougham  started  forward,  leaving  the  win 
dow  vacant  and  crushing  Tom  deliciously  against 
his  companion. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       169 

"I — I  think  they  are  all  perfectly  horrid  to  you !" 
he  blurted  out  excitedly.  "But  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I'm  on  your  side!" 

He  dared  not  look  at  her  as  he  made  this  declara 
tion.  But  he  gloried  in  the  fact  that  he  was  fol 
lowing  his  instinct.  Had  not  Allyn  said  that  in 
stinct  inevitably  presided  over  mere  intelligence? 
That  was  the  case  now  with  him.  She  was  in  his 
eyes  a  captive  princess — misunderstood — slighted, 
abused,  and  he  was  already  her  champion. 

"I  knew  you  understood,  the  first  time  we  met — 
at  tea,"  she  answered  with  gratitude.  "It  is  so 
hard,  if  one  cares  for  the  things  that  are  really 
worth  while,  to  find  any  sympathy  here.  So  I  am 
quite  lonely.  My  mother  could  not  possibly  un 
derstand  how  I  could  wish  to  read  a  book,  for  ex 
ample.  You  recall  how  they  all  attributed  some 
ulterior  purpose  to  my  being  in  the  garden." 

"I'm  glad  I  saw  you  first  that  way!"  said  Tom 
tenderly.  "I  shall  never  forget  how  you  looked 
sitting  there  with  the  sunlight  in  your  hair!  How 
strange  I  never  knew  Allyn  had  a  sister!" 

"He  might  as  well  not  have  any!"  she  retorted 
bitterly.  "You  see  how  I'm  made  to  feel  like  an 
interloper,  or  at  least  like  an  unwelcome  guest,  as 
if  somehow  /  were  entirely  to  blame  for  my  unfor 
tunate  marriage.  But  we  mustn't  talk  of  these 
unpleasant  things!"  she  added  gently.  "We  must 
be  gay  and  happy  in  order  to  make  a  proper 
entrance  into  this  grand  mansion  of  chattering 
fools.  You  will  tire  of  all  this  in  a  week.  How 


170       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

I  envy  you  your  splendid  youth,  your  future — 
your  work!" 

Tom  was  not  aware  that  he  had  mentioned  any 
of  his  plans  for  the  future,  but  her  tone  was  enough 
to  lead  him  to  renew  fervently  his  vows  of  loyalty; 
yet  mingled  with  his  real  admiration  for  her  and 
the  flame  of  passion  which  she  aroused  was  the 
conscious  satisfaction  that  he,  Tom  Kelly,  was 
actually  making  love  to  a  beautiful  three  million 
dollar  heiress  and  getting  along  rather  better  than 
could  have  been  expected.  It  quite  went  to  his 
head.  If  he  could  do  this  with  her — think  of  all 
the  other  and  less  distinguished  girls!  But  he 
must  be  true!  A  little  fun — merely  the  mildest 
flirting — with  others.  He  could  hardly  control 
his  voice  as  the  carriage  paused  to  allow  another, 
immediately  preceding  it,  to  roll  away  around  the 
brilliantly  lighted  circle  in  front  of  an  enormous 
house,  the  verandas  of  which,  as  well  as  the  grounds, 
were  hung  with  Chinese  lanterns. 

"The  house  of  Mammon!"  whispered  Mrs.  Win- 
gate  bitterly. 

A  groom  snapped  open  the  door  and  saluted. 

"Carriages  are  being  ordered  for  one  o'clock," 
he  said. 

"Heavens!"  muttered  Tom.  "It  doesn't  take 
five  hours  to  eat  dinner,  does  it?" 

Lulie  Wingate  threw  him  a  protecting  smile. 

"There  will  be  dancing,  afterward;  you  can 
stay  if  you  wish.  But  I  am  tired  of  it.  Be  here 
at  eleven,  Jules." 

They  passed  in  through  a  row  of  footmen,  one 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       171 

of  whom  directed  them  to  opposite  sides  of  the 
great  entrance  hall,  and  when  Tom  emerged  from 
the  reception-room  he  found  her  already  waiting 
for  him.  He  hesitated  as  to  whether  he  should 
offer  her  his  arm  as  they  followed  the  butler  to  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room,  but  decided  against  it 
since  Mrs.  Wingate  seemed  inclined  to  lead  the 
way  by  herself.  A  veritable  tumult  was  going  on 
inside  the  threshold  so  deafening  that  the  voice 
of  the  butler,  shouting  "Mrs.  Wingate,"  made  no 
impression  upon  it  whatever.  He  bent  over  in 
quiringly  toward  Tom,  who  gave  him  his  name. 

" — Mr.  Perry!"  bellowed  the  man  defiantly  at 
the  throng. 

Then  hurrying  forward  came  a  stout,  red-faced 
lady  in  a  white  gown  who  seized  Mrs.  Wingate's 
hand  and  cried  hoarsely:  "So  glad  to  see  you,  Lulie ! 
So  nice  of  you  to  come,  dear! — and  this  is  Mr. 
Kelly!  Come  over  and  let  me  introduce  you  to 
some  of  these  pretty  girls ! " 

Tom  had  received  an  envelope  in  the  coat-room 
containing  a  tiny  sheet  of  crested  note-paper  which 
informed  him  in  French  that  he  was  requested  to 
escort  one  Miss  Selby  to  dinner.  He  had  also  ac 
quired  a  cocktail  in  the  dressing-room,  and  in  con 
sequence  felt  quite  at  home — even  rather  superior; 
and  this  confidence  was  not  impaired,  as  he  followed 
his  hostess  through  the  crowd  and  received  a  con 
fused  impression  of  the  appearance  of  most  of  the 
men.  There  really  wasn't  anybody  that  looked 
like  much— a  lot  of  little  "Willies"  with  pointed 
waxed  mustaches  and  pink  cheeks,  and  old  codgers 


172       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

with  "bow- windows,"  heavy  jowls,  and  fishy  eyes. 
He  recognized  and  nodded  somewhat  patroniz 
ingly  to  Pennington,  and  later,  at  table,  to  Gather- 
wood.  He  had  not  expected  to  see  them,  and  he 
observed  with  pride  the  obvious  interest  taken  in 
himself  by  their  fair  companions. 

He  began  to  realize  that  he  was  something  of 
a  celebrity — a  little  lion,  for  the  time  being,  and  he 
had  the  perspicacity  to  see  that  he  must  make  hay 
while  the  sun  shone  and  seize  the  opportunities  of 
the  moment. 

"Miss  Selby— Mr.  Kelly:— Be  nice  to  him, 
Pauline  1"  and  his  hostess  waddled  away  leaving 
him  standing  in  front  of  a  pretty,  if  somewhat 
Junoesque,  young  blonde.  Tom  took  the  hand  ex 
tended  to  his,  and  received  a  firm  grip.  The  girl 
had  warmth,  directness,  and  a  certain  kind  of  dash 
that  was  distinctly  attractive.  It  was  rather  plain 
that  she  was  a  little  spoiled,  probably  wilful,  and 
knew  exactly  what  she  wanted.  It  was  equally 
obvious  that  she  was  glad  to  have  Tom  as  her 
partner  at  dinner,  and  she  took  pains  to  let  her 
satisfaction  be  seen  by  her  less  fortunate  com 
panions  in  the  slight  touch  of  proprietorship  which 
she  injected  into  her  manner  and  remarks. 

"I'm  like  'Red-Top  seeing  the  world,'"  said 
Tom,  smiling.  "Didn't  you  have  ' Baby-Days' 
when  you  were  a  child?  And  don't  you  remember 
the  picture  of  the  chick  who  started  out  on  his 
career  and  got  lost?" 

"' Red-Top'?     Was   that    the   chick's   name?" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       173 

inquired  Pauline,  innocently  lifting  her  eyes  in 
the  direction  of  Tom's  wavy  locks. 

He  laughed. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  suggest  that  the  analogy  was 
so  close,  but  I  see  it  strikes  you." 

"Do  you  feel  like  'Red-Top'?"  she  asked  good- 
naturedly. 

"This  is  my  first  appearance  in  smart  society," 
he  answered,  "and  I'm  naturally  a  bit  out  of  my 
depth.  If  you  see  me  drowning  please  pull  me 
ashore  and  give  me  ' first  aid'?" 

They  were  already  on  an  easy  footing  and  Tom 
congratulated  himself  that  he  was  getting  along 
very  well.  Pauline  introduced  him  to  two  or  three 
manifestly  cordial  young  women  standing  near 
them,  and  when  the  move  was  made  to  the  dining- 
room  he  felt  entirely  at  ease.  He  had  no  difficulty 
in  guiding  his  Miss  Selby  to  her  place,  for  the  butler 
stood  at  the  door  and  directed  them  where  to  go, 
and  his  chair  had  no  sooner  been  pushed  in  by  the 
footman  in  powdered  hair  behind  him  than  the 
dinner  began  to  be  served. 

Although  fast  getting  used  to  luxury,  Tom  was 
actually  aghast  at  the  reckless  extravagance  dis 
played  in  what  appeared  to  be  regarded  by  those 
around  him  as  a  simple  entertainment.  Twelve 
flunkeys  waited  upon  the  twenty-eight  guests, 
most  of  whom  were  young  men  and  girls  of  about 
his  own  age,  with  a  sprinking  of  oldish  bachelors. 
The  table  was  profusedly  decorated  with  orchids 
and  roses,  and  loaded  with  the  hothouse's  finest 


174       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

fruit.  Russian  caviare  served  in  ice-blocks,  green- 
turtle  soup,  Pompano,  mousse  of  an  indefinable 
and  delicious  savor,  magnificent  saddles  of  lamb, 
elaborate  salads  concealed  in  the  interior  of  gigantic 
specimens  of  fruit,  golden  plover,  and  complicated 
ices  of  the  form  and  size  of  swans,  constituted  a 
menu  which  would  have  been  appropriate  to  the 
coronation  of  an  Emperor.  Tom  ate  from  gold 
plate  and  drank  from  rock-crystal,  and  he  ate  and 
drank  freely,  enjoying  it  all,  not  observing  that 
comparatively  few  of  the  young  guests  seemed  to 
take  any  interest  in  the  Lucullian  viands  offered 
them.  The  noise  in  the  dining-room  was  inten 
sified  by  much  shouting  across  the  table  and  bois 
terous  laughter  on  the  part  of  most  of  the  men. 
In  fact,  noise  seemed  to  be  the  recognized  ther 
mometer  of  enjoyment.  Only  with  difficulty  could 
Tom  hear  what  Miss  Selby  was  saying  or  make 
himself  heard  in  reply.  One  man  in  particular 
succeeded  in  creating  an  overwhelming  din  by  his 
own  unaided  attempts  to  liven  up  the  already  lively 
party,  and  his  raucous  trumpetings  could  be  heard 
rising  high  above  the  other  uproar  as  he  turned, 
in  eccentric  jumps  from  side  to  side,  shrieking  his 
witticisms  so  that  none  of  them  should  be  lost, 
his  flaccid  face  flushed  with  champagne.  Tom 
became  somewhat  dizzy  from  the  glare  of  the  elec 
tric  lights  and  almost  faint  from  the  heaviness  of 
the  air.  Once  his  eyes  found  those  of  Lulie  Win- 
gate  beyond  a  huge  bed  of  flaming  orchids  and  she 
raised  her  brows  and  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       175 

as  if  in  deprecation  of  the  scene  about  them.  But 
in  spite  of  the  blur  that  kept  coming  across  his 
vision  he  experienced  a  strange  exhilaration.  He 
felt  almost  as  if  he  were  taking  part  in  some  bar 
baric  ceremonial.  The  hubbub  was  like  the  frenzied 
shouting  of  fanatics  before  some  heathen  altar,  and 
the  odor  of  the  food  like  the  incense  offered  to  some 
great  and  terrible  god. 

When  at  last  the  feast  was  over,  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  physical  relief  that  he  followed  his  host 
out  upon  the  veranda  and  let  the  soft,  damp  air 
from  the  ocean  play  about  his  temples.  A  footman 
offered  him  cigars  and  cigarettes,  but  he  declined 
them.  He  must  keep  his  wind  in  shape  for  the 
tournament.  The  tournament!  He  had  almost 
forgotten  it  in  the  excitement  incident  to  his  ad 
vent  in  this  giddy  social  whirl.  To-morrow  he 
would  go  into  strict  training.  Yet  he  knew  in  his 
heart  that  the  attention  he  was  receiving,  the 
lavishness  he  saw  about  him,  the  recognition  that 
was  his  for  the  first  time,  the  discovery  that,  in 
spite  of  his  poverty  he  counted — was  somebody — 
in  the  great  world,  the  larger  vision  of  the  material 
life,  was  more  to  him  than  the  mere  winning  of 
any  tournament.  The  championship  was  all  very 
well,  but  you  couldn't  make  a  living  by  playing 
tennis.  Now  that  he  was  one  of  these  swells — these 
rich  and  powerful  personages  who  ran  things — to 
whom  money  was  nothing — was  there  anything  he 
couldn't  have?  Why  shouldn't  he  make  friends 
with  these  men — his  host  Welfleet,  for  instance, 


176       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

get  solid  with  him,  and  feather  his  nest?  Old  Par- 
radym  seemed  to  have  a  pretty  snug  time  of  it! 
It  shouldn't  be  difficult  for  him,  Tom,  to  do  the 
same  thing. 

Pondering  thus,  he  was  joined  presently  by  Cath- 
erwood  and  Pennington,  who  insisted  on  dragging 
him  off  to  a  near-by  group  of  men  of  about  his  own 
age  and  introducing  him  as  the  coming  victor  in 
the  national  tournament.  These  young  fellows  evi 
dently  regarded  themselves  as  the  jeunesse  doree  of 
New  York  and  Newport  society,  as  doubtless  they 
were,  for  their  conversation  dwelt  exclusively  upon 
the  more  private  social  happenings  of  those  places, 
save  when  it  hovered  with  significant  innuendoes 
over  back  stairs  and  stage  entrances.  Tom  was  ac 
customed  to  the  ubiquitous  use  of  Christian  names 
at  college,  but  he  was  amazed  to  discover  that  not 
only  did  these  gallant  youths  assume  an  attitude  of 
the  greatest  familiarity  with  himself  and  with  each 
other,  but  that  they  seemed  to  be  on  an  intimate 
footing  with  all  the  adults,  male  and  female,  in 
the  select  circle  of  the  Four  Hundred.  Elderly 
persons,  who  apparently  had  a  considerable  amount 
of  personal  dignity,  were  referred  to  easily  as 
"Bobby"  This  and  "Daisy"  That,  much  as  the 
man  in  the  street  refers  to  his  favorite  race-horse, 
actress,  or  prize-fighter.  An  atmosphere  of  omnis 
cience  in  regard  to  social  and  sporting  life  hung 
over  the  circle.  Most  of  the  boys  were  not  twenty- 
five  years  old,  yet  their  talk  was  mostly  of  gam 
bling  houses  and  demi-mondaines.  They  seemed  to 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       177 

view  Tom  much  as  wealthy  patrician  youths  of 
ancient  Rome  might  have  regarded  a  well-recom 
mended  gladiator — since  he  appeared  strong  in  wind 
and  limb  they  accorded  him  their  approval  and 
received  him  in  a  friendly  fashion  for  the  time 
being  into  their  midst. 

The  freedom  also  with  which  they  discussed  the 
intimate  domestic  affairs  of  their  friends  and  their 
friends'  fathers  and  mothers  shocked  him.  He 
had  thought  himself  quite  a  man  of  the  world  be 
fore;  had  himself  indulged  in  a  good  deal  of  cheap 
and  pretentious  talk  about  people  in  Boston  and 
Brookline  whom  he  hardly  knew;  but  this  was — 
well — raw!  It  was  one  thing  to  refer  to  an  el 
derly  married  man  by  his  first  name — "Freddy," 
for  instance — but  openly  to  discuss  his  allowance 
to  a  notorious  vaudeville  artiste  and  his  quarrels 
with  her  predecessor  seemed  to  savor  of  indelicacy. 
The  anecdotes  exchanged  were  perhaps  no  more 
vulgar  than  those  he  had  heard  at  his  table  in 
Memorial  Hall,  but  there  was  a  cynicism  in  the 
way  they  were  told  that  made  them  seem  doubly 
salacious.  In  a  word,  the  tone  was  low.  The 
conversation  seemed  to  have  become  hopelessly 
" mired."  Even  the  discussion  of  athletics  was 
so  colored  by  betting  talk — of  big  sums  wagered 
and  lost  on  the  most  trifling  events — that  the  sport 
itself  seemed  a  secondary  consideration.  And  there 
were,  besides,  half-jocular  references  to  the  matri 
monial  prospects  of  the  young  ladies  whose  society 
they  had  but  recently  enjoyed  at  dinner.  Tom 


178       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

heard  the  probable  fortunes  of  several  of  these 
girls  openly  estimated,  as  well  as  those  of  their 
parents.  And  there  was  also  a  good  deal  of  malicious 
gossip — commonly  referred  to  as  slander,  but  better 
described  as  character  murder.  In  this  gentle  art 
these  young  gentlemen  had  already  acquired  a 
fine  Italian  hand.  They  spared  no  one.  When 
other  subjects  waned,  they  returned  to  it  with  re 
newed  zest.  The  stab  was  veiled,  but  if  the  thrust 
was  usually  behind  the  arras,  poor  old  Polonius 
was  ultimately  dragged  forth  a  victim. 

But  if  Tom  was  startled,  he  listened,  none  the 
less,  with  passionate  eagerness  to  all  that  he  heard. 
It  tickled  his  vanity  to  feel  himself  on  such  a  fa 
miliar  footing  with  the  great,  or  those  who  walked 
with  them.  This  was  a  "young"  party,  but  at  any 
rate  his  companions — all  these  youths  and  maid 
ens — were  the  pages  and  flower-girls,  the  court 
iers  or  avant-couriers  of  royalty.  He  gathered 
that  there  was  a  richer  world  beyond — even  than 
this !  What  marvels  lay  behind  those  other  doors 
as  yet  closed?  If  these  were  the  children,  what  of 
the  parents?  He  flattered  himself  that  it  would 
take  but  little  practice  on  his  part  to  talk  as  glibly 
as  these  other  fellows.  Apparently,  no  mental  ac 
quirement  was  necessary.  Politics,  art,  philosophy, 
books,  were  not  touched  upon.  To  be  shaven, 
bathed,  well-tailored,  to  have  your  hair  parted  in 
the  middle,  to  wear  a  white  waistcoat,  and  a  dress 
shirt  with  pearl  studs — imitation,  perhaps — to  look 
pleasant  and  have  a  ready  smile,  these  were  all 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       179 

the  essentials  for  admission  into  the  palaces  of 
the  great.  So  far  as  Tom  could  see  there  was  noth 
ing  about  these  men,  save  their  strict  adherence 
to  convention  in  the  matter  of  manners  and  dress, 
to  differentiate  them  from  any  other  youths  of  their 
own  age,  except  the  fact  that  they  were  the  guests 
of  Mrs.  Welfleet  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  instead 
of  being  the  guests  of  Mrs.  Smith  of  somewhere  else. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  or  so  the  orchestra 
began  tuning  up  in  a  pavilion  which  had  been  erected 
for  the  occasion  on  the  Welfleets'  extensive  lawn, 
and  the  party  on  the  veranda  broke  up,  some  of 
the  men  returning  to  the  drawing-room,  but  the 
majority  floating  toward  the  library,  where  tables 
had  been  prepared  for  bridge  and  poker. 

Tom,  diffident  about  entering  a  hall  full  of  com 
parative  strangers  and  somewhat  doubtful  as  to 
his  knowledge  of  the  art  of  dancing  as  practised  in 
Newport,  wandered  away  among  the  Japanese 
lanterns  until  the  ball  should  begin,  and  he  could 
have  an  opportunity  to  observe  in  what  respect  the 
manners  of  the  Four  Hundred  differed  from  those 
of  the  Back  Bay. 

A  few  adventurous  couples  had  already  found 
their  way  to  the  pavilion  and  were  taking  advantage 
of  the  unimpeded  floor.  The  glare  of  lights,  the 
rattle  of  harness,  and  the  noise  of  carriages,  with 
the  shouts  of  the  coachmen,  came  through  the 
shrubbery  from  the  near-by  drive.  The  guests  at 
other  dinner-parties  were  "coming  on"  to  Mrs. 
Welfleet's.  The  babel  of  voices  in  the  house  had 


i8o       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

increased  to  nearly  double  its  previous  volume. 
The  halls  were  full  of  the  newly  arrived,  whose 
boisterous  greetings,  rising  sharply  above  the  strains 
of  the  orchestra,  penetrated  the  night. 

Soon  the  ample  rooms  could  no  longer  contain 
the  plethora  of  guests  who  surged  out  upon  the 
piazza  and  near-by  lawn.  There  began  to  be  a 
concerted  motion  toward  the  pavilion.  Tom,  feel 
ing  that  he  must  not  lose  this  opportunity  of  ex 
tending  his  acquaintance,  sauntered  gradually  in 
the  same  direction,  looking  for  Miss  Selby.  He  had 
already  accepted  her  invitation  to  take  lunch  on 
her  father's  yacht  next  day,  and  he  regarded  her 
as  a  sort  of  social  sponsor,  a  part  which  she  was 
obviously  quite  ready  to  play. 

He  had  half  a  dozen  dances  with  Pauline,  who 
graciously  permitted  several  of  her  friends  to  share 
his  acquaintance  while  maintaining  a  general  super 
vision  over  his  career,  and  he  was  introduced  to 
some  thirty  or  forty  young  ladies  of  various  degrees 
of  physical  attractiveness.  But  in  all  this  riot  of 
wealth  and  beauty  he  saw  no  one  who  in  his  eyes 
compared  for  an  instant  with  Lulie  Wingate  in 
charm,  looks,  or  breeding.  Besides  these  sunburned 
blondes  she  was  like  an  alluring  S  emir  amis — or  some 
mysterious  Queen  of  the  Night — from  whom  floated 
an  elusive  and  intoxicating  charm. 

She  was  not  among  the  dancers  in  the  pavilion, 
and  as  he  looked  for  her  he  suddenly  recalled  the 
fact  that  she  had  ordered  her  carriage  for  eleven 
o'clock.  He  felt  a  sudden  contrition,  coupled  with 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       181 

fear,  lest  he  should  have  offended  her.  He  ran  back 
to  the  house  and  sought  her  through  all  the  rooms, 
but  she  was  not  there — she  had  gone  home  prob 
ably.  But  in  answer  to  his  question  the  butler 
told  him  positively  that  Mrs.  Wingate  had  not 
gone  home,  that  her  groom  was  still  waiting  at 
the  front  door.  The  drawing-room  was  practically 
empty  and  she  was  not  among  those  gathered  around 
the  card-tables  in  the  library.  Puzzled,  he  returned 
to  the  pavilion.  Perhaps  she  was  sitting,  waiting 
for  him  somewhere — expecting  him  to  look  for  her. 
Tom  innocently  began  to  extend  his  search  amid 
the  shrubbery,  but  although  he  flushed  several 
couples  sitting  in  the  darkness,  Lulie  was  not  to 
be  found.  He  was  by  this  time  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  lawn  beyond  the  circle  of  the  Japanese  lan 
terns.  A  warm  humid  breath  ascended  from  the 
friendly  earth,  making  him  think  of  Cambridge— 
of  the  heavy,  moisture-laden  night  air  of  Brattle 
Street.  How  different  all  this  was  from  the  dull 
provincial  college  town !  Again  his  breast  swelled 
with  the  delicious — almost  delirious — consciousness 
that  he,  Tom  Kelly,  who  had  once  regarded  him 
self  as  a  sort  of  "mucker,"  or  at  least  as  a  social 
undesirable,  had  come,  seen,  and  already  partly 
conquered,  this  important  outpost  of  the  great 
world,  was  already  an  honored  guest  in  the  summer 
social  centre  of  America,  had  found  more  than 
favor  in  the  tender  eyes  of  two  beautiful  women. 
It  did  not  seem  possible  that  all  this  could  have 
happened  to  him.  The  strains  of  "The  Blue 


182       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Danube"  floated  across  the  velvet  grass.  The  night 
lacked  but  one  joy — he  had  not  danced  with  Lulie ! 
Where  could  she  be?  If  he  could  only  find  her,  he 
might  possibly  persuade  her  to  surrender  her  prej 
udices  against  the  empty  pleasures  of  society  to 
the  extent  of  letting  him  take  her  in  his  arms — in 
the  pavilion,  of  course. 

In  this  mood  of  self-satisfied  exaltation  he  slowly 
turned  and  made  his  way  through  the  shrubbery 
with  the  idea  of  returning  to  the  house.  He  was 
now  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  grounds  where  it 
was  quite  dark  and  where  the  orchestra  could  be 
heard  but  faintly,  and  he  had  progressed  not  more 
than  a  dozen  steps  when  unexpectedly  just  in  front 
of  him  the  blackness  was  shattered  by  the  flare  of 
a  match.  Framed  in  the  outline  of  a  rustic  summer- 
house  appeared  the  figures  of  a  man  and  a  woman, 
their  faces  thrown  into  staccato  relief.  For  the 
space  of  half  a  dozen  seconds — while  the  man  was 
lighting  a  cigar — Tom  stood  and  watched  them, 
hardly  trusting  his  vision.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  it !  The  woman  was  Lulie  Wingate ! 

Chagrin,  disappointment,  anger,  possessed  him 
alternately.  What  right  had  she — a  married  woman 
— to  be  off  there  in  the  dark,  flirting  with  any  man  ? 
And  then,  as  he  stole  silently  off  toward  the  house, 
the  bitter  realization  came  to  him  that  if  Mrs.  Win- 
gate  chose  to  sit  in  the  dark  in  a  summer-house  it 
was  no  business  of  his.  Any  rights  in  the  situa 
tion  that  he  might  have  under  the  circumstances 
must  necessarily  arise  out  of  some  unformulated 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       183 

and  unrecognized  relationship  which  had  come 
into  existence  between  them.  Was  there  any  such? 
He  had  known  her  barely  eight  hours.  She  was 
an  older — if  not  much  older — woman,  with  a  hus 
band.  What  could  he,  Tom  Kelly,  have  in  common 
with  her?  And  yet  his  fierce  blaze  of  wrath  at  the 
sight  of  her  with  another  man  told  him  that  in 
some  vague  way  he  had  linked  himself  with  her  in 
his  thoughts,  had  promised  himself  some  sort  of  ro 
mantic  adventure,  innocent  or  even  otherwise,  and 
he  was  furious  that  it  was  not  to  be,  furious  at  the 
discovery  that  she  had  played  with  him,  tricked 
and  fooled  him  like  the  half-baked  college  boy  that 
he  was. 

Still  in  a  blind  rage,  he  stumbled  into  Allyn  on 
the  steps  of  the  veranda.  His  friend's  face  was 
flushed  and  his  eyes  had  an  unnatural  and  restless 
glimmer.  In  addition  he  had  obviously  an  irre 
sistible  desire  to  talk,  for  his  words  tumbled  in 
a  steady,  uninterrupted  burble  from  his  lips.  This 
was  a  damn  stupid  party,  he  informed  Tom,  just 
like  all  these  parties.  There  was  nothing  in  it. 
A  lot  of  young  asses,  foolish  girls,  and  silly  old 
women.  He  knew  where  he  could  have  a  real 
time — "understan' — a  real  time!"  But,  first — he 
lowered  his  tone  confidentially — they  would  go 
to  a  nice  little  place — sort  of  club,  you  know — 
where  there  would  be  only  a  few  good  fellows  like 
themselves,  and  where  they  could  have  a  quiet 
drink  and  play  the  wheel. 

Although  Tom  realized  that  Allyn  was  in  no 


1 84       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

condition  to  go  to  a  gambling-house,  he  was  quite 
ready  to  cast  all  such  considerations  aside — must 
see  everything — he  told  himself — study  the  whole 
game  from  start  to  finish — and  Allyn  was  no  worse 
off  drunk  than  sober.  To  hell  with  everything, 
anyway!  They'd  make  a  night  of  it.  In  this 
frame  of  mind  he  sought  out  Allyn's  groom,  or 
dered  up  the  brougham  and  climbed  into  it.  Lulie 
could  take  care  of  herself,  his  friend  assured  him. 
Let  her  go  home  alone.  She'd  find  an  escort  fast 
enough,  and  if  she  didn't  it  wouldn't  hurt  her. 

Thus  ended,  or  rather  began,  Tom's  first  night 
in  Newport. 


XVI 

TOM  awoke  to  an  unwonted  sense  of  comfort. 
Even  the  persistent  aching  of  his  head  did  not 
mar  his  delicious  sensations  as  he  lay  there  between 
the  fine  hand-embroidered  sheets  of  his  bed  in  the 
" royal  suite."  He  had  never  occupied  such  a  couch 
before.  At  home  in  Newbury  Street  all  the  beds 
had  wooden  slats  with  thin,  sandwich-like  mat 
tresses  crushed  solid  by  generations  of  use,  and  at 
college  he  had  slept  upon  a  similar  mattress  with 
only  the  substitution  of  a  sagging  spring  instead 
of  the  wooden  slats.  He  had  usually  been  so  tired 
that  it  had  not  mattered,  but  half-submerged  in 
the  soft  and  dainty  voluptuousness  of  his  present 
accommodations  he  now  realized  that  the  beds 
which  he  had  previously  enjoyed  had,  without 
exception,  been  hard  and  slinky.  This  was  like 
lying  on  a  cloud.  One  did  not  want  to  move,  still 
less  to  get  up.  Drowsily  he  wondered  how  one 
managed  to  get  breakfast.  At  home  one  arose, 
walked  gingerly  across  the  faded  grass  matting, 
and  poured  out  the  water  necessary  for  washing 
from  a  heavy  white  pitcher  into  a  thick  white  bowl 
on  a  wooden  wash-stand,  whose  once  varnished  sur 
face  exhibited  a  hundred  intersecting  and  concentric 
circles  caused  by  damp  tooth-mugs  and  similar 

185 


1 86       THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

receptacles.  In  spite  of  the  feast  of  which  he  had 
partaken  the  night  before,  Tom  discovered  that 
he  was  hungry,  the  reason  for  which  was  presently 
indicated  by  the  chiming  of  a  small  French  time 
piece  upon  the  mantel.  Eleven  o'clock ! 

Tom  had  rarely  slept  so  late  in  his  life  before. 
But  it  did  not  seem  particularly  late  now.  There 
was  nothing  to  get  up  for,  except  to  lunch  on  the 
Selbys'  yacht  at  one  o'clock,  and  that  was  two 
hours  away.  He  could  lie  in  bed  another  hour  if 
he  chose.  His  eye  travelled  across  the  heavy  mono 
grams  on  the  linen  to  a  satin  quilt  hanging  over 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  thence  to  a  wadded  Japanese 
dressing-gown  and  slippers  placed  near  by,  and 
finally  to  the  naked  Grecian  beauty  emerging  from 
her  bath  in  the  Ionian  Sea.  By  a  natural  connota 
tion  he  saw  himself  likewise  enjoying  a  refreshing 
bath  in  the  porcelain  tub  in  the  adjacent  room. 
How  cool  and  delightful  it  would  be!  And  he 
would  try  some  of  those  other  strange  hygienic 
artifices,  such  as  the  needle  bath. 

He  threw  back  the  sheets  and  swung  his  silk- 
pajamaed  legs  over  the  side  of  the  bed  until  his  feet 
lost  themselves  in  the  soft  fur  of  a  rug.  Then,  as 
he  was  about  to  stand  up,  his  eye  caught  a  thin 
block  of  onyx  lying  upon  the  night-table  wherein 
were  imbedded  three  mother-of-pearl  buttons 
marked,  in  small  gold  letters,  "Butler,"  "Servants' 
Hall,"  "Valet."  The  words  "Servants'  Hall" 
suggested  breakfast.  He  had  read  about  places 
where  one  breakfasted  in  bed,  but  he  had  never 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       187 

enjoyed  that  luxury  himself.  Surely  here,  if  any 
where,  he  could  assume  that  such  a  custom  existed. 
Perhaps  the  same  man  who  brought  the  breakfast 
could  explain  how  to  work  the  different  faucets 
in  the  bathroom.  He  pressed  the  button  marked 
"  Valet,"  and  sank  back  again  among  the  down 
pillows. 

The  window-shutters  had  been  closed  and  only 
slight  streaks  of  sunlight  were  visible  upon  the 
walls.  The  air  of  the  room  was  heavy  with  odors 
from  the  garden  and  the  faint  smell  of  silk  up 
holstery.  A  moment  or  two  only  seemed  to  elapse 
before  there  was  a  subdued  knock;  the  door  opened, 
and  the  valet  who  had  assisted  him  in  dressing  the 
night  before  entered.  Without  greeting  Tom,  he 
first  placed  a  freshly  pressed  suit  of  clothes  upon 
a  chair  and  then,  stepping  noiselessly  to  the  win 
dows,  threw  open  the  blinds.  Instantly  the  room 
was  flooded  with  sunlight,  so  that  Tom  was  almost 
blinded.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  turned  over  com 
fortably.  The  man  evidently  knew  what  to  do, 
and  would  undoubtedly  keep  on  going  until  he  was 
stopped.  Tom  could  hear  him  doing  something 
in  the  bathroom,  and  presently  there  came  a  rush 
and  swirl  of  water.  Then  the  man  suddenly  ap 
peared  beside  the  bed  and  said  deferentially: 

"Will  you  have  breakfast  before,  or  after,  your 
bath,  sir?" 

"Oh,  I  think  I'll  eat  first,"  answered  Tom,  for 
he  was  not  sure  whether  it  would  be  good  form  to 
get  back  into  bed  after  he  had  once  left  it. 


1 88       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Shall  I  wash  your  face,  sir?"  inquired  the  man 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

Tom  was  genuinely  shocked.  Was  it  humanly 
possible  that  fellows  existed  who  would  allow  a 
servant  to  swab  their  faces  as  they  lay  in  bed? 

"No,  thanks!"  he  retorted  almost  contemp 
tuously. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  continued  the  valet.  "Will 
you  have  a  little  something  to  drink,  sir,  before 
you  have  your  breakfast?  How  about  a  split  of 
champagne?  Mr.  Allyn  is  very  apt  to  take  one, 
sir;  I  can  bring  it  in  a  jiffy." 

The  idea  of  drinking  champagne  on  an  empty 
stomach  before  he  had  got  out  of  bed  also  staggered 
Tom's  mental  equipment.  Rather  than  permit 
the  valet  to  suspect,  however,  that  it  was  not  his 
habitual  custom,  he  would  unhesitatingly  have 
risked  the  results,  had  it  not  so  happened  that 
champagne  at  that  particular  moment  was  the 
last  thing  in  the  world  that  he  desired. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  don't  think  I  want  anything 
to  drink.  What  have  you  got  for  breakfast?" 

"We  have  tea,  coffee,  and  chocolate,"  replied 
the  valet  glibly.  "Melons,  oranges,  blackberries 
and  raspberries,  peaches  and  plums,  cereals,  eggs, 
bacon,  chicken  hash,  lamb  chops,  sausages,  hot 
rolls,  corn  bread,  toast,  white  and  graham  and 
health  bread.  Would  you  kindly  mention  what 
you  would  prefer?" 

Tom  tried  to  remember  as  much  of  the  menu 
as  he  could.  It  dimly  suggested  an  apotheosized 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       189 

"Beefsteak,  codfish  and  cream — rare  or  well  done" — 
the  prehistoric  menu  at  the  "Mountain  Home 
House"! 

"Oh,"  he  yawned,  "bring  me  a  piece  of  melon, 
corn  bread  and  coffee,  and  some  scrambled  eggs 
with  sausages  and  bacon.  That  will  hold  me  for 
a  while,  I  guess.  You  haven't  got  any  griddle- 
cakes  have  you?" 

"I  can  ask  the  chef  to  make  some  for  you,"  said 
the  valet.  "But  we  haven't  them  ready,  sir." 

"Never  mind.  Don't  bother,"  remarked  Tom 
affably,  not  inclined  to  be  captious,  yet  at  the  same 
time  desirous  that  the  valet  should  know  that  if 
he  did  not  see  what  he  wanted  he  was  quite  ready 
to  ask  for  it,  that  all  these  little  things  were  part 
of  his  ordinary  daily  life,  and  that  he  was  quite 
to  the  manor  born. 

The  valet  disappeared  and  Tom  continued  to 
doze  luxuriously.  Taken  altogether,  his  recollec 
tions  of  the  night  before,  though  somewhat  con 
fused,  were  by  no  means  unpleasant.  His  experi 
ences  with  Allyn  had  been  negative,  and  in  spite 
of  his  chagrin  at  discovering  Mrs.  Wingate  in  the 
darkness  of  the  Welfleets'  lawn  with  another  man, 
the  significance  of  this  incident  now  seemed  less 
marked  than  it  had  at  the  time.  Frankly,  he  told 
himself,  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not 
have  been  there.  It  was  hardly  natural  to  suppose 
that  he  was  her  only  admirer.  Yet  she  certainly 
had  given  him  encouragement!  More  encourage 
ment  than  he  had  ever  received  from  Evelyn !  Lulie 


1 90      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

might  be  said  almost  to  have  openly  made  love 
to  him.  As  he  lay  with  half-closed  lids  he  could 
hear  again  the  soft  murmurs  of  her  voice  with  their 
almost  plaintive  cadences,  see  the  wistful,  alluring 
glances  from  those  entreating  eyes.  Was  she  a 
little  devil,  after  all  ?  Parradym  had  said  so.  Allyn 
had  practically  admitted  as  much.  Well,  what 
if  she  was?  He  chuckled  with  lazy  satisfaction. 
He  had  certainly  made  a  success  of  it  at  the  Wei- 
fleets'  dinner-dance !  Quite  the  lion !  All  the  girls 
had  seemed  to  want  to  meet  him;  all  the  men  had 
been  cordially  deferential.  He  was  going  to  make 
good  at  Newport,  socially  at  any  rate,  and  if  he 
did  make  good !  There  was  no  end  to  it,  apparently. 
And  part  of  the  good  time  was  knowing  girls  like 
Lulie  Wingate.  How  ravishing  she  had  looked 
yesterday  afternoon  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the 
hedge  by  the  sun-dial.  He  wondered  if  she  made 
a  practice  of  coming  to  the  spot  at  the  same  hour 
each  day.  If  so,  they  would  have  a  trysting-place. 
His  mind  rapidly  took  long  leaps.  The  fact  that 
she  was  a  married  woman  would  make  a  liaison 
perfectly  safe.  He  wondered  when  he  should  next 
see  her.  How  far  his  thoughts  might  have  taken 
him  is  problematical,  but  at  that  moment  the  valet 
returned  carrying  a  tray  covered  with  a  fine  damask 
cloth  and  loaded  with  china  and  shining  silver. 
From  the  closet  he  produced  two  scarlet  cushions, 
which  he  tucked  behind  Tom's  back,  and  a  small 
white  wooden  rack  with  folding  legs,  which  he  super 
imposed  across  the  lower  half  of  Tom's  body.  Then 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       191 

he  placed  the  tray  upon  the  rack  and  stood  at  at 
tention. 

"If  you  miss  anything,  I  will  be  just  outside, 
sir,"  and  he  departed,  leaving  the  door  slightly 
ajar. 

Tom  surveyed  the  contents  of  the  tray  with 
gratification.  The  china  was  of  the  most  trans 
parent  sort,  decorated  with  a  delicate  tracery  of 
birds  and  flowers.  In  front  reposed  the  half  of  a 
luscious  hothouse  melon,  and  beside  it  a  small 
tumbler  of  orange  juice.  Flanking  the  melon  was 
a  plate  of  cereal  and  beneath  a  silver  cover  he  found 
the  most  deliciously  prepared  scrambled  eggs,  in 
which  were  embedded  tiny  sausages  not  much  larger 
than  cigarettes.  There  was  also  a  saucer  contain 
ing  rolls  of  sweet  butter  interspersed  with  slivers 
of  cracked  ice,  a  plate  of  smoking  corn  muffins,  and 
a  silver  dish  of  crisp  bacon.  The  finishing  touch 
was  supplied  by  a  box  of  Turkish  cigarettes  and  a 
silver  alcohol-lamp  already  lighted. 

Tom  poured  himself  out  a  full  cup  of  aromatic 
coffee,  tempered  it  with  hot  milk  through  a  silver 
strainer,  and  added  a  touch  of  oozy  cream.  Having 
devoured  everything  edible  upon  the  tray  in  the 
space  of  about  six  minutes,  he  leaned  back  with  his 
head  against  the  scarlet  cushions  and  lit  a  cigarette. 
"The  height  of  luxury!"  Now  he  knew  what  it 
was!  It  was  to  recline  among  down  cushions  in 
your  pajamas  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
smoking  a  Turkish  cigarette  "made"  (so  the  box 
stated)  "from  selected  leaves  grown  in  sunny  corners 


1 92       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

of  the  walls  of  Smyrna, "  with  the  breath  of  a  rose- 
garden  floating  in  through  the  window,  with  your 
stomach  lined  with  sausages  composed  "of  little 
pigs  and  choice  spices/'  scrambled  eggs  studded 
with  truffles,  mushrooms,  and  chicken  livers,  and 
hothouse  melons  at  three  dollars  apiece ! 

"I  wonder  what  Bridget  would  say  if  she  could 
see  me  now,"  remarked  Tom  to  himself. 

Then  he  added  to  the  door  in  a  loud  and  some 
what  bullying  tone:  "Hello  there!  Is  my  bath 
ready?" 

Tom,  togaed  like  some  old  Roman,  emerged 
grandly  from  his  bath,  and  reclining  in  a  cosey 
chair  and  smoking  another  cigarette,  meanwhile 
graciously  permitted  himself  to  be  shaved  by  the 
valet,  whom  he  discovered  to  be  not  only  an  adept 
in  arts  of  haberdashery,  but  a  manicure,  masseur, 
and  barber  as  well.  In  fact,  he  inspired  such  con 
fidence  that  Tom  would  not  have  hesitated  to  con 
sult  him  upon  any  difficult  point  in  Newport  eti 
quette  or  ethics  which  might  have  presented  itself. 
Still  assisted  by  this  elegant  professor  of  the  physical 
humanities,  he  arrayed  himself  in  his  flannels,  se 
lected  a  tie  sporting  the  colors  of  the  "Woolsack," 
and  condescended  to  glance  at  the  morning  papers. 
In  spite  of  his  delicious  breakfast  and  the  fact  that 
he  had  already  smoked  three  exceptionally  strong 
cigarettes,  he  felt  a  curious  sensation  of  enervation — 
a  craving  for  something,  he  did  not  know  exactly 
what — and  he  poured  himself  out  a  Scotch  and 
soda. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       193 

Quaffing  this,  he  strolled  windowward,  to  discover 
Parradym  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  rose-garden  be 
low  upon  the  same  seat  that  Lulie  had  occupied 
the  afternoon  before. 

"Good  morning/'  said  Parradym  without  look 
ing  up.  "Come  down  and  take  a  sun-bath  with 


me." 


There  was  something  almost  uncanny  in  the 
way  this  fat  bachelor  could  apparently  see  out  of 
the  side  of  his  head. 

"There's  a  staircase  just  outside  your  door — 
to  the  left,"  he  added. 

"All  right,"  answered  Tom,  for  although  he  was 
now  convinced  that  he  did  not  like  Mr.  Parradym 
he  nevertheless  found  it  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  withstand  the  man's  peculiar — if  possibly  "ma 
licious  animal" — magnetism.  He  selected  a  couple 
of  mild  cigars,  filled  his  cigarette-case,  and  descended 
to  the  rose-garden.  He'd  get  some  points  on  the 
social  game,  anyhow — on  the  Selbys,  possibly.  A 
rosy  young  patrician,  he  sauntered  across  the  grassy 
circle  to  Parradym,  who  moved  over  to  make  room 
for  him. 

"Great  day!"  remarked  Tom  with  a  touch  of 
patronage.  He,  at  any  rate,  was  no  sycophant. 
"What's  the  book?" 

Parradym  held  it  up  with  a  smile.  It  was  a  limp- 
covered  copy  of  "Epictetus." 

"Oh,  Lord!"  growled  Tom,  "you  might  as  well 
read  the  Bible  and  be  done  with  it!" 

"A  chapter  or  two  of  Ecclesiastes  wouldn't  be 


194       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

a  bad  introduction  to  Newport/'  nodded  the  older 
man.  "I  don't  suppose  you're  ready  for  it  yet, 
though.  In  a  year  or  so  you'll  be  chasing  around 
looking  for  your  lost  appetite.  By  the  way,  how 
was  it  this  morning?" 

"Fine!"  snapped  our  hero. 

Parradym  looked  at  his  watch. 

"I  wonder  how  it  will  be  for  lunch,"  he  chuckled. 
"Let  a  case-hardened  old  materialist  give  you  a 
tip.  Don't  blunt  the  edge  of  your  appetite  at  the 
start !  There's  nothing  on  earth  to  beat  a  canvas- 
back  cooked  and  served  in  its  own  gravy.  You 
can  have  'em  here — all  you  want — just  like  every 
thing  else.  But  if  you  eat  too  many  of  'em,  why, 
they  taste  no  better  than  boiled  fowl.  Curious — 
and  disappointing,  too!" 

"I  haven't  tasted  any  yet!" 

"No,  they're  out  of  season,  of  course!  Not  that 
that  makes  any  difference  here !  But  it's  the  same 
way  with  anything — hothouse  melons,  for  example. 
Eat  'em  three  times  a  day  for  a  week  and  you  can't 
bear  to  look  one  in  the  face.  And  yet,  unfortunately, 
it's  so  easy  to  get  used  to  having  them  that  one 
isn't  happy  without  them.  Therein  lies  one  of  the 
great  problems.  Question :  Is  it  better  to  eat  melons 
and  miss  them  if  you  don't  get  them,  or  never  to 
eat  them  and  not  to  miss  them?  When  you  can 
answer  that  tell  me,  will  you?" 

"I'll  take  a  few  melons,  please."  Tom  stretched 
luxuriously. 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  said  Parradym.    "Well, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       195 

it's  easy  to  get  them  here.  They  fall  right  off  the 
vines  into  your  lap.  Melons,  plums,  and  peaches ! 
Only  don't  tell  too  many  people,  old  chap.  Don't 
spoil  the  market!  Let's  keep  it  to  ourselves!" 

Tom  flushed  uncomfortably.  He  didn't  care 
to  be  classed  by  Parradym  with  himself.  But  he 
recognized  the  truth  of  the  latter's  earlier  remarks 
about  satiety.  In  fact,  the  dinner  at  the  Welfleets' 
had  been  an  astonishing  example  of  it. 

"Guess  you're  right,"  he  answered.  "I  suppose 
that  dinner  I  went  to  last  night  cost  at  least  a 
thousand  dollars,  but  I  didn't  see  any  one  there 
who  seemed  to  enjoy  eating  it.  I  should  say  you 
might  just  as  well  have  given  them  scrambled 
eggs." 

"Better!"  said  Parradym.  "Everybody  here 
is  suffering  from  ennui — old  and  young  alike !  Even 
the  children  are  bored  to  death.  Your  true  social 
Newporter  has  no  appetite  for  anything.  They 
have  exhausted  everything  the  world  has  to  offer 
in  the  way  of  legitimate  amusement  and  luxury. 
Did  you  ever  happen  to  think  that  that  was  the 
real  danger  of  this  sort  of  life?  There's  nothing 
legitimate — straight — decent — that  anybody  has 
any  taste  left  for,  so  they  go  after  the  other  thing." 

"Do  you  really  mean  that?"  demanded  Tom. 

"It's  as  true  as  most  generalities,"  replied  Par 
radym.     "Anyhow,  that's  the  tendency.     But"- 
and  he  slapped  Tom  on  the  knee — "that's  where 
you  and  I  come  in,  my  boy!     These  millionaires 
must  have  entertainment — somebody   to   talk  to, 


196       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

and  their  daughters  have  got  to  marry.  And  the 
supply  of  presentable  males  doesn't  equal  the  de 
mand.  Just  look  around  you  during  the  next  few 
weeks !  Anything  in  trousers  that  isn't  deaf,  dumb, 
and  blind,  or  that  hasn't  actually  served  a  term  in 
State's  prison,  can  live  here  for  nothing  on  golden 
plover  and  champagne,  and  when  the  season  is 
over  can  spend  the  whiter  cruising  round  the  Med 
iterranean  on  somebody's  yacht,  and  afterward 
marry  the  daughter,  and  the  yacht,  too.  Really, 
it  makes  me  blush !" 

"I  should  think  it  would !"  said  Tom  disgustedly. 
Parradym's  bald  cynicism  almost  made  him  ill. 

"But  the  'free  ride'  is  a  dangerous  game  in  some 
ways,"  continued  his  new  friend  without  noticing 
Tom's  tone.  "And  the  first  thing  to  look  out  for 
is  the  possibility  that  in  a  very  short  time  you  may 
not  get  any  more  fun  out  of  it  yourself — that  you'll 
be  tired  of  the  same  scenery.  Don't  eat  too  many 
melons !  Go  easy  on  the  plover !  Don't  get  bored, 
because  it's  your  stock  in  trade  to  be  interest 
ing  and  interested.  And  then,  my  dear  young 
man,  you  may  be  able  to  hang  on  like  myself  to  a 
ripe  old  age,  still  moderately  enjoying  the  dinners, 
the  dances,  the  clambakes,  the  yachting,  and  the 
house-parties  that  will  be  furnished  to  you  'free 
gratis  for  nothing,'  simply  because  the  lonely  rich 
have  got  to  have  companionship.  And  then,  too, 
when  you  are  quite  ready,  you  can  take  your 
pick  of  a  hundred  really  beautiful  and  highly  edu 
cated  young  girls  and  go  to  live  on  the  Riviera  on 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       197 

papa's  money.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the 
prospect?" 

Tom  turned  on  him  in  righteous  scorn. 

"I  think  you're  a  cold-blooded  old  snob!"  he 
snorted. 

Parradym  laughed  softly. 

'"Good!"  he  muttered  under  his  breath.  "Keep 
that  up !  It's  what  I  am,  all  right." 

And  then  Tom  felt  a  sense  of  contrition.  Par 
radym  was  an  older  man  and  a  gentleman  of  a  sort, 
and  he  had  no  right  to  insult  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  he  said  stiffly.  "I  should 
not  have  spoken  as  I  did.  I  apologize." 

"Bless  your  dear  soul!  What  for?"  asked  Par 
radym. 


XVII 

A  STEAM-LAUNCH,  manned  by  two  sailors  and  a 
petty  officer  in  uniform,  carried  Tom  magnificently 
to  where  lay  the  Pauline.  His  head  was  still  weary 
from  the  strain,  intestinal  and  nervous,  of  the  pre 
ceding  evening,  so  that  the  glare  of  the  sunlight 
on  the  white  sails  of  the  yachts  hurt  his  eyes,  and 
he  shaded  them  with  his  hand  and  looked  through 
his  ringers.  The  Selbys'  was  one  of  the  biggest  of 
all  of  them,  apparently.  She  lay  apart  from  the 
others,  her  nose  pointing  seaward,  smoke  curling 
from  her  yellow  funnels,  and  her  propellers  lazily 
churning  the  water  at  her  stern  into  a  swirling 
caldron.  Tom  could  see  a  couple  of  officers  stand 
ing  on  deck  in  anticipation  of  his  arrival.  It  made 
him  feel  rather  queer,  almost  afraid.  It  was  the 
same  sensation  which  he  had  experienced  on  his 
arrival  at  "Beausejour,"  only  it  was  intensified. 
The  yacht  was  clearly  waiting  for  Mm.  Without 
him  it  would  not  put  to  sea.  He  was,  in  truth,  the 
controlling  factor  in  the  movements  of  it  and  of 
its  owner  for  that  day.  Instinct  told  him  that 
somehow  this  moment  was  big  with  fate.  What 
made  him  a  factor?  And  if  the  yacht  hung  upon 

his  arrival  to-day,  might  it  not  to-morrow,  and 

198 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       199 

next  year,  and  forever?  It  would  be  grand  to  have 
a  yacht.  Yet,  why  not? 

"All  ready,  sir,"  said  the  bos'n,  touching  his 
cap,  as  the  launch  swept  up  to  the  gangway. 

Tom  arose  and,  clutching  the  tassellated  white 
cord  which  ran  between  the  highly  polished  brass 
stanchions,  climbed  up  the  ladder. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Kelly!  Come  right 
aboard !" 

A  stout  gentleman  in  blue  coat  and  white  flannel 
trousers,  his  yachting  cap  ornamented  with  a  large 
gold  monogram,  was  greeting  Tom  with  an  ex 
pansive  smile  and  outstretched  hand.  The  cap 
tain,  beside  him,  saluted  respectfully. 

"Hope  you  can  put  up  with  a  family-party," 
apologized  the  owner  of  the  yacht,  who  seemed 
anxious  to  give  entire  satisfaction.  "But  there's  so 
much  fuss  and  feathers  on  shore,  we  like  to  get  off  by 
ourselves  occasionally  an'  have  a  nice,  quiet  time." 

Mr.  Selby  repeated  this  with  a  stereotyped  bland- 
ness  which  suggested  the  use  of  the  formula  on 
previous  occasions.  Without  waiting  for  any  reply 
he  turned  to  the  officer  at  his  left: 

"All  right,  captain.  Just  a  little  run  so's  to  get 
us  back  about  five  o'clock.  Be  sure  an'  don't  go 
anywhere  it's  rough." 

Then  he  laid  his  hand  familiarly  on  Tom's 
shoulder  and  led  him  toward  the  stern. 

"Mrs.  Selby  and  my  daughter  are  back  there 
waitin'  for  you,"  he  said.  "We'll  have  lunch  as 
soon's  the  yacht  gets  started." 


200       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Tom  was  conducted  by  his  host  to  where  the 
cabin  superstructure  gave  place  to  a  roomy  sweep 
of  deck — half  piazza,  half  drawing-room — for  there 
were  red-cushioned  wicker  easy-chairs,  a  large  ta 
ble  covered  with  books,  magazines,  and  games, 
and  an  upright  piano  fastened  beside  the  com- 
panionway.  It  was  clear,  even  to  Tom,  that  the 
owners  of  the  yacht  were  not  accustomed  to  go 
"where  it  was  rough."  A  large,  rotund  lady  was 
knitting  in  one  of  the  chairs,  and  Pauline  arose 
from  another,  looking  charming  in  a  white  linen 
sailor-waist  wide  open  at  the  neck.  She  shook 
hands  with  the  same  cordial  definiteness  which  he 
had  noticed  the  evening  before,  and  presented  Tom 
to  her  mother. 

"This  is  Mr.  Kelly,  mamma,"  she  announced, 
quite  as  if  she  had  said,  "This  is  my  new  watch, 
mamma,"  and  was  giving  "mamma"  a  chance  to 
express  her  opinion  of  the  new  acquisition  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  that  opinion  was  wholly  imma 
terial  to  the  owner. 

Mrs.  Selby  wore  habitually  a  distrait  expression 
suggesting  doubt  and  anxiety — doubt  as  to  exactly 
what  was  done  by  the  best  people  under  similar 
circumstances  and  anxiety  lest  her  execution  should 
fail  to  conform  to  the  proper  standards.  This  re 
sulted  in  her  temporizing  with  herself,  which  con 
veyed  a  curious  impression  of  indifference — with 
inferiors  of  coldness.  But  essentially  neither  was 
Mrs.  Selby  a  snob  nor  was  her  husband,  for  they 
made  no  pretenses,  and  simply  offered  to  pay  spot 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       201 

cash  for  what  social  goods  they  purchased  as  they 
went  along.  As  they  paid  handsomely,  demanding 
no  discounts,  they  were  accepted  for  what  they 
were  and,  on  the  whole,  were  more  liked  than  not; 
and  as  Pauline  was  undeniably  a  catch — an  only 
child,  Selby's  interest  in  his  canning  business  being 
rated  at  several  millions — she  went  everywhere 
and  was  the  dictatrix  of  a  circle  of  her  own,  of  which 
the  two  most  willing  slaves  were  her  own  father 
and  mother. 

"Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Selby,  hardly  looking  at  Tom, 
"Pauline  was  telling  us  quite  a  lot  about  you. 
You're  the  tennis-player,  ain't  you?" 

"A  kind  of  one!"  answered  Tom  genially,  feel 
ing  that  after  all  there  was  not  much  difference 
between  these  people  and  those  he  had  known  in 
his  earlier  boarding-house  days. 

"He's  going  to  win  the  national  championship!" 
declared  Pauline.  "That  is,  if  he  doesn't  get  gas 
tric  poisoning  first,"  she  added  as  a  steward  ap 
proached  and  announced  that  luncheon  was  served. 

"Well,"  Selby  assured  him,  "your  insides  won't 
get  hurt  from  what  you  eat  on  this  yacht.  The 
truck  is  delivered  on  board  fresh  every  morning 
and  so  is  the  milk.  No  ptomaines  here.  And  all 
the  dry  stuff  is  put  up  in  glass — at  my  own  factory. 
Come  on  down!"  He  turned  to  the  companion- 
way. 

"Papa  always  lugs  in  the  factory,  if  he  can!" 
laughed  Pauline  defiantly.  "I  don't  blame  him. 
It's  a  model  one,  the  kind  they  send  excursions  of 


202       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

public-school  children  over.  You  see  it  advertised 
everywhere.  'Hot  water  and  serve' — you  know — • 
that  sort  of  thing.  But  it's  just  as  good  a  business 
as  boys'  suits,  or  pickles,  or  ink,  or  plumbing  fix 
tures.  They're  all  represented  here  in  the  smartest 
circles.  And  as  far  as  the  old  families  go,  most  of 
them  before  1860  were  5/a^e-traders,  they  tell  me." 

She  had  a  naive  candor  coupled  with  a  sense  of 
humor  that  was  delightful  to  Tom,  and  he  felt  that 
she  was  a  "good  sport,"  with  no  pretenses,  even  if 
a  trifle  "bossy."  But  if  the  meal  was  hygienic  it 
was  none  the  less  elaborate,  and  gave  not  the  slightest 
indication  of  any  of  the  ingredients  being  put  up  in 
glass  or  anything  else.  All  the  Selbys  ate  heartily 
of  melons,  clear  soup,  salmon,  roast  beef,  salad, 
and  dessert,  and  after  everything  else  was  served 
Mrs.  Selby  consumed  three  large  peaches  which 
she  directed  the  steward  to  "cut  up"  for  her. 

"I  always  did  like  peaches,"  she  explained,  with 
her  mouth  full  of  them.  "Now,  strawberries — I 
like  them,  you  know,  but  they  don't  like  me  !  And 
Mr.  Selby  can  mix  them  up  with  lobster  or  cream 
or  anything  and  never  mind  them  at  all." 

She  wiped  her  lips  minutely  on  a  damask  nap 
kin  and  arose  with  some  difficulty. 

"Now  don't  stay  down  here  smokin'  all  this 
beautiful  afternoon!"  she  remarked.  "Why  don't 
you  have  your  cigars  on  deck?" 

"Oh,  leave  them  alone,  mamma,"  expostulated 
Pauline.  "Only  don't  be  long!"  she  ordered. 

"Give  us  a  chance  to  get  to  know  each  other," 


THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY       203 

said  Mr.  Selby,  offering  Tom  a  heavy  cigar  shaped 
like  a  miniature  submarine.  "We've  got  all  the 
afternoon  to  talk  to  you.  Have  a  lick — ure  ?  " 

Tom  declined  the  liqueur.  He  was  intensely  in 
terested  in  the  Selby  menage.  Here,  apparently, 
was  a  family  of  which  the  parents  were  the  plainest 
of  plain  people,  without  culture  of  any  sort  what 
ever,  who  were  received  as  a  matter  of  course  in 
a  society  which  he  had  always  supposed  to  be  the 
most  select  in  America,  and  by  contrast  with  which 
the  smart  set  of  the  Back  Bay  seemed  almost 
provincial.  Unquestionably,  his  own  mother  was 
more  of  a  real  lady  than  Mrs.  Selby.  His  mother 
had  peculiarities,  but  Mrs.  Selby  was — what  was 
it  exactly? — lifeless.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  any 
spark  in  her  magneto.  She  was  always  running  on 
first  speed — grinding  heavily  along  as  if  it  were 
hard  work.  Yet,  his  mother  had  never  known  any 
body,  outside  of  her  church  circle  and  her  own 
dingy  aunts  and  cousins,  save  the  casual  acquain 
tances  of  their  peripatetic  summer  vacations;  while 
Mrs.  Selby  had  dukes  to  dinner.  Her  husband  con 
fided  this.  In  spite  of  that  fact  Tom  lit  the  sub 
marine  with  a  slight  sense  of  doing  his  host  a  favor. 
Selby  paid  for  his  dukes,  and  he  was  paying  for 
him,  Tom  Kelly. 

"Yes,"  remarked  Mr.  Selby,  "Pauline  wanted  a 
yacht,  so  I  picked  this  up  second-hand.  Just 
exactly  as  good  as  new,  too!  But  Newport  ain't 
Newport  without  the  water.  Give's  you  some 
thing  to  do  in  the  afternoon,  y'understand  ?  I 


204       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

can't  learn  to  play  golf.  I've  tried  half  a  dozen 
times,  and  the  damn  game  gets  on  my  nerves.  Pau 
line  can  play  it,  though!  She's  a  fine  girl,  Mr. 
Kelly." 

With  a  certain  sense  of  indelicacy  Tom  agreed 
with  enthusiasm  that  Pauline  was  indeed  a  fine 
girl.  Her  father  seemed  pleased.  Yes,  he  assured 
his  guest,  Pauline  was  a  smart  one.  She  could 
always  wind  her  old  dad  around  her  little  finger — 
get  anything  she  wanted  out  of  him,  or  her  mother 
either!  Well,  they  hadn't  anything  to  do  except 
to  make  her  happy.  And  she  certainly  did  seem 
to  be  having  a  good  time  of  it — dancing-parties 
every  night,  picnics,  and  so  on.  She  arranged  all 
their  dinners,  paid  the  calls,  attended  to  everything ! 
"  Executive" — that  was  what  she  was.  He  only 
hoped  she  wouldn't  marry  one  of  those  puny  little 
Johnnies  you  saw  so  many  of.  But  it  wasn't  at 
all  likely.  Pauline  wouldn't  get  fooled.  You  could 
bet  your  life  on  that.  She'd  want  a  real  man,  not 
a  wooden  figure  to  drape  clothes  on.  A  few  of  those 
foreign  fellers  worried  him  at  times — they  were  good- 
looking  and  had  a  way  with  'em.  Some  of  the  women 
went  crazy  over  them.  But  he  didn't  propose  to 
have  any  damned  dago  for  a  son-in-law.  He  wanted 
his  girl  to  marry  an  American  and  stay  right  here 
at  home  where  she  belonged.  Oh,  she'd  take  care 
of  herself,  all  right. 

Tom  was  embarrassed  by  such  frankness,  a  re 
flection  of  which  was  clearly  perceptible  in  Pauline 
herself.  He  didn't  want  the  old  man's  confidences. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       205 

He  liked  his  daughter  and  his  yacht  and  his  cigars, 
but  it  stopped  there.  It  was  evident  that  he — Tom, 
the  erstwhile  worm — possessed  something  which 
money  couldn't  buy — a  pearl  without  price — which 
could  be  exchanged  at  his  own  terms.  Of  course, 
no  decent  fellow  would  sink  to  the  level  of  marry 
ing  for  money — but  if  he  did  !  As  Selby  burbled 
on,  Tom  could  not  efface  a  vision  of  himself  sitting 
there  in  state  alone  with  Pauline — her  father  and 
mother  safely  ashore — bound  for  foreign  climes, 
a  winter  on  the  Riviera,  up  the  Nile,  among  the 
Ionian  Isles — a  king  and  queen,  able  to  do  as  they 
liked,  by  virtue  of  the  inexhaustible  flow  of  dividends 
from  the  Selby  factory.  It  was  like  their  adver 
tisement:  "Just  add  hot  water  and  serve!"  Pau 
line  was  one  of  Parry's  ripe  peaches,  ready  and 
waiting  to  drop  off  the  bough  into  his  mouth.  He 
needn't  even  take  the  trouble  to  raise  his  hand — 
she'd  drop  of  herself.  "  Several  millions !"  A  mil 
lion  was  forty  or  fifty  thousand  a  year !  "Several" 
might  be  anywhere  from  three  to  six  or  seven,  over 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year,  anyhow !  And 
all  his,  practically,  to  do  what  he  liked  with !  His 
heart  beat  excitedly  at  the  humiliating  thought. 
He  could  smoke  cigars  like  that  all  the  time !  And 
Pauline!  He  told  himself  that  any  man  would 
be  proud  to  have  her  for  a  wife.  He  felt  sure  that 
he  could  love  Pauline,  and  he'd  give  up  his  life  to 
making  her  happy.  He  followed  Mr.  Selby  up  the 
companion  way  in  a  sort  of  delirium.  "A  hundred 
thousand  a  year!  A  hundred  thousand  a  year!" 


206       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

kept  echoing  in  his  ears.  A  word  from  him,  a  dis 
creet  period  of  hesitation,  his  name  would  be  in 
the  papers,  and  he  would  be  "  holding  three  million 
dollars  in  his  arms."  He'd  heard  Catherwood  get 
off  that  remark  to  Pennington,  who  had  been  danc 
ing  with  her  the  night  before.  Pennington?  Come 
to  think  of  it,  that  sly  little  Sam  had  been  very  at 
tentive,  perhaps  had  his  own  plans  in  regard  to  the 
Selby  fortune.  But  imagine  a  girl  like  Pauline 
marrying  Pennington ! 

These  thoughts  were  hovering  in  the  background 
of  Tom's  mind  as  he  followed  Selby  up  the  com- 
panionway  and  out  upon  the  immaculate  deck. 
The  yacht  was  headed  up  the  coast  toward  Martha's 
Vineyard  and,  while  there  was  a  refreshing  breeze, 
the  sea  was  calm  and  smiling.  An  occasional  gull 
followed  in  their  wake,  at  times  almost  motion 
less;  then,  giving  a  few  lazy  strokes,  rising  for  a 
moment  only  to  settle  down  with  a  squawk  and 
flutter  upon  some  invisible  morsel.  Overhead  the 
sky  was  a  soft,  even  blue,  and  all  about  them  gleamed 
the  sails  of  other  yachts.  Tom  had  the  enjoyable 
sensation  of  perfect  physical  well-being.  The  weari 
ness  in  his  head  had  vanished,  his  new  clothes  fitted 
him  easily,  and  his  feet  in  their  rubber-soled  shoes 
of  white  buckskin  were  deliciously  comfortable. 
He  could  not  help  recalling  the  time — less  than 
fifteen  months  ago — when  he  had  always  been 
dressed  uncouthly,  his  trousers  and  sleeves  too  short, 
his  cuffs  frayed,  his  neckties  faded,  his  shoes  too 
tight  and  run  down  at  the  heels.  And  now  he  was 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       207 

as  smart  as  anybody — smarter,  in  fact!  And  the 
change  had  been  brought  about  merely  by  the 
spending  of  a  little  money.  The  fact  that  he  still 
owed  most  of  the  money  gave  him  only  slight  un 
easiness — a  tiny  fly  in  the  amber  of  his  self-satis 
faction — that  could  easily  be  managed,  he  felt  sure. 
Allyn  would  lend  him  a  hundred  or  so  without  a 
thought,  if  he  asked  him;  he  could  easily  make  a 
plausible  excuse.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 
speak  to  his  mother  about  the  money;  she  would 
think  he  was  going  straight  to  perdition.  Perdi 
tion  ?  If  he  was,  it  was  a  pleasant  place  to  go  to ! 

"Well,  here  we  are!" 

Mr.  Selby,  lighting  another  cigar,  sank  down 
into  one  of  the  wicker  chairs.  His  wife  looked  up 
placidly  from  her  knitting. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  could  stay  down  in  that 
stuffy  place!"  she  said. 

Tom  went  over  to  where  Pauline  sat  with  a  book 
in  her  lap. 

"Don't  you  want  to  show  me  over  the  yacht?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  why  don't  you  show  Mr.  Kelly  around?" 
inquired  her  father.  "It's  a  good  chance  now,  when 
your  mamma  and  I  are  feelin'  sort  of  sleepy." 

"Come  along!"  cried  the  girl,  throwing  down 
her  book.  "What  do  you  want  to  see  first?" 

"Everything!  I  want  to  see  how  it  would  feel 
to  own  one,"  answered  Tom. 

"Oh,  you'll  own  one  some  time,"  she  asserted  with 
conviction.  "Every  successful  man  owns  a  yacht." 


208       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"How  do  you  know  I'll  be  successful?"  he  in 
quired. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly,"  she  laughed,  "but 
I  have  that  sort  of  feeling  about  you.  I'm  sure 
you'll  get  whatever  you  want." 

She  had  led  him  as  if  by  deliberate  intention  to 
a  cushioned  nook  in  the  shadow  of  the  bridge. 

"I  can  see  all  I  want  of  the  yacht  from  here," 
declared  Tom.  "What  a  bully  place  to  sit!" 

"Isn't  it?  I  had  it  fixed  up  just  for  myself. 
Mamma  calls  it  'Pauline's  Paradise.'  It's  a  won 
derful  place  for  dreaming." 

"Do  you  ever  see  visions?"  he  asked  innocently. 

"I'm  afraid  one  could  hardly  call  them  that. 
They  are  just  purely  material  expectations — to 
morrow,  next  week,  next  month." 

"You  like  the  life  here,  then?" 

"I  love  it!"  she  enthused.  "Isn't  it  the  best 
we  have  in  America?  Doesn't  it  represent  every 
thing  that  everybody  wants,  the  best  society,  the 
smartest  people,  the  biggest  yachts,  the  most  de 
licious  cooking,  the  finest  sport — bathing,  tennis, 
golf,  riding,  sailing?  What  more  could  you  ask?" 

Her  words,  in  sharp  contrast  to  those  of  Lulie 
Wingate  the  night  before,  were  uttered  with  ob 
vious  sincerity. 

"And  yet  some  people — "  he  began 

"Oh,  I  know  there  are  people,"  she  answered 
quickly,  "plenty  of  them  right  here  in  Newport, 
who  are  always  crying  'Vanity  of  Vanities,  all  is 
Vanity.'  They  talk  about  the  frivolity  of  the  life 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       209 

here  and  the  terrible  extravagance  and  all  that, 
while  they  are  getting  all  they  can  out  of  it  them 
selves.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it's  nothing  but 
a  pose.  It  is  mostly  a  case  of  sour  grapes  with  the 
people  that  criticise  Newport.  All  of  them,  if  they 
had  the  chance,  would  be  glad  enough  to  have  big 
places  of  their  own  and  live  exactly  as  all  the  rest 
of  us  do.  The  people  that  pretend  that  it's  wrong 
to  like  what  other  people  have  are  either  too  old 
to  enjoy  themselves  or  have  something  the  matter 
with  them — chronic  indigestion  usually.  Now,  I'm 
a  perfectly  normal  person,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  and 
I  just  love  all  of  it — everything,  from  having  a 
French  maid  down  to  lobster  Newburg,"  and 
looking  straight  at  Tom  she  smiled  a  confident, 
joyous  smile  which  seemed  to  embrace  the  entire 
universe  of  sparkling  waves  and  white  sails,  in 
cluding  Tom  himself. 

Tom  smiled  in  return.  The  more  he  saw  of 
Pauline  the  more  he  liked  her  direct  vision,  the 
straightforward  outpouring  of  her  thoughts,  and 
he  felt  ashamed  of  the  sordid  possibilities  which 
had  suggested  themselves  to  him  below.  She  was 
a  glorious  young  creature,  a  perfect  exemplification 
of  the  Roman  ideal  of  "Mens  sana  in  cor  pore  sano." 
She  seemed  in  true  accord  with  the  vast  sweep  of 
robin's-egg  blue  above  them,  the  distant  circle  of 
the  horizon,  the  onward  rush  and  leap  of  the  yacht's 
prow  against  the  slight  roll  from  the  Atlantic,  and 
the  languorous  southwest  wind  that  was  drawing  a 
smoky  pall  over  the  Rhode  Island  shore  and  the 


210      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

far-lying  islands  of  Buzzards  Bay,  shrouding  them 
in  Turner-esque  mystery  and  already  paving  a 
path  of  glory  for  the  declining  sun.  Didn't  instinct 
tell  him  that  she  was  right?  Was  there  not  in  the 
harmony  of  nature  around  him  all  that  the  spirit 
craved  ? 

"Well/'  he  answered  in  happy  agreement,  "it 
all  seems  mighty  good  to  me.  I've  never  known 
much  about  these  things,  but  I've  noticed  that 
those  who  haven't  had  them  lose  no  time  in  getting 
them  when  they  can.  I  suppose  that  if  money 
didn't  really  mean  a  lot  men  wouldn't  strive  for 
it." 

"Of  course  they  wouldn't,"  she  replied  with  as 
surance.  "And  the  game  is  worth  the  candle,  too. 
You  read  a  whole  lot  about  it  being  silly  for  men 
to  stay  down  in  their  grimy  offices  all  day  working 
just  for  more  money.  Well,  they're  not  working 
just  for  money.  They're  working  for  the  future 
of  their  children,  of  themselves,  and  their  business, 
and  because  they  can't  help  working.  It's  a  law 
of  nature.  It  helps  develop  the  country.  It  makes 
progress.  It's  the  American  spirit.  It's  instinctive 
to  want  to  be  happy  and  comfortable — and  to 
work,  too.  If  you  follow  your  instinct,  you'll  be 
all  right." 

Pauline  delivered  this  with  an  air  of  finality  and 
Tom  felt  relieved  that  he  had  her  permission  to 
follow  his  instinct. 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  in  an  admiring  tone,  "that's 
easy." 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       211 

But  all  the  same  he  was  not  so  sure  in  his  own 
mind.  There  would  be  a  great  old  time  going  on 
if  people  just  ran  around  following  their  instincts. 
He  already  had  quite  a  respect  for  Pauline's  force 
and  intelligence,  but  her  philosophy  somehow  seemed 
rather  too  simple. 

"However,"  he  added,  "instinct  doesn't  guide 
everybody  right.  There  are  lots  of  rotters  every 
where.  This  place  must  be  full  of  them — of  people 
'on  the  make.'" 

"Yes,"  she  admitted,  "it  is.  And  a  girl  has  to 
keep  her  eyes  open  here  unless  she  wants  to  be 
fooled.  But  most  of  the  social  crooks  are  quite 
obvious." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  social  crooks?" 

"The  people  who  want  to  get  something  for 
nothing,"  she  retorted.  "You'd  be  surprised  at 
the  number  of  them.  Little  German  and  Russian 
counts,  some  of  them  real  and  some  of  them  bogus; 
pretentious  people  who  come  here  simply  to  trade 
on  their  acquaintance  with  smart  people  in  other 
places,  fortune-hunters  and  social  climbers  gen 
erally." 

"But  you  don't  regard  all  social  climbing  as  ob 
jectionable,  do  you?"  he  queried,  involuntarily 
thinking  of  mamma  and  papa  Selby  on  the  lower 
deck,  "because  after  all  that  is  merely  following 
the  instinct  for  change  and  development  of  which 
you've  been  speaking." 

"Exactly,"  she  answered.  "But  there  are  social 
climbers  who  climb  over  the  dead  characters  of 


212       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

their  friends,  and  who  live  by  false  pretenses.  I 
think  social  ambition  is  as  legitimate  as  any  other, 
provided  that  it  is  pursued  by  honest  methods." 

It  came  to  Tom  that  Pauline  was  herself  the 
high  priestess  of  ambition.  Backed  by  her  own 
"instinct,"  her  capacity,  her  money,  the  man  who 
became  her  husband  might  go  far.  And  she,  for 
her  part,  liked  Tom  the  better  the  more  she  saw 
of  him,  or  rather  talked  to  him,  for  he  was  a  recep 
tive  listener  and  had  tact  enough  to  ask  questions 
which  she  would  be  glad  to  answer.  Thus  the  hours 
flew  by,  Pauline  becoming  more  and  more  convinced 
that  Tom  was  the  most  attractive  and  the  wisest 
man  she  had  met  in  her  whole  life. 

Down  in  their  cosey  wicker  chairs  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Selby  were  spending  an  unusually  quiet  and  com 
fortable  afternoon. 

"Those  two  seem  to  find  plenty  to  talk  about," 
he  remarked,  yawning  and  closing  his  novel.  "I 
sneaked  up  to  that  ' paradise'  of  Pauline's  a  few 
minutes  ago  and  they  were  arguing  away  to  beat 
the  band." 

"I  hope  they  weren't  quarrelling,"  said  his  wife. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  he  answered.  "Pauline  was 
just  holding  forth  as  usual.  You  know  how  she  is 
when  she  gets  talking  about  the  universe." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  agreed  Mrs.  Selby.  "I  can't 
understand  a  word  she  says,  but  I  suppose  it  means 
something  to  her." 

"Let's  hope  so  at  any  rate,"  responded  her  hus 
band.  "Anyhow  we  mustn't  let  them  get  tired 
of  each  other." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       213 

It  was  at  about  this  moment  that  the  yacht 
shifted  her  course  slightly  eastward  and  began  an 
almost  imperceptible  roll. 

Pauline  and  Tom  ensconced  in  the  red-cushioned 
bower  below  the  bridge  observed  the  bow  hesitate 
for  an  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  second,  stagger, 
and  plunge  downward.  A  sheet  of  white  spray, 
iridescent  in  the  slanting  beams  of  the  sun,  leaped 
upward  and  fell  with  a  swish  upon  the  forward 
deck. 

"Gracious!"  cried  Pauline,  "mother  will  be 
frightened  to  death.  She  always  is,  if  it's  the  least 
bit  wet." 

At  or  about  the  same  moment  the  steward  re 
ceived  a  call  from  the  after-deck. 

"You  go  up  and  tell  the  captain,"  directed  Mr. 
Selby  somewhat  indignantly,  "to  turn  right  around. 
I  ordered  him  particularly  not  to  go  where  it  was 
rough." 

"And  after  that,  you  can  serve  tea,"  added  Mrs. 
Selby. 

The  sun  hung  like  a  huge  red  disk  over  Newport 
Harbor  as  the  Pauline  passed  under  the  fort  and 
slowly  moved  to  her  anchorage,  and  the  old  town, 
the  islands,  the  golf-links,  and  the  distant  shores 
of  Narragansett  Bay  were  bathed  in  a  golden  sheen 
that  slowly  changed  first  to  bronze  and  then  to 
purple.  The  surface  of  the  water  was  like  a  softly 
undulating  mirror,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  a 
confusion  of  noises,  the  panting  of  engines,  the 
creak  of  oars,  the  rattle  of  blocks,  the  jingle  of 
pianos,  the  voices  of  women  singing,  and  all  the 


214       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

rest  that  go  to  make  up  the  bustle  and  clatter  of 
a  harbor. 

Pauline  bade  her  friend  good-by  at  the  head  of 
the  gangway.  The  acquaintance  begun  at  Mrs. 
Welfleet's  was  progressing  almost  as  favorably  and 
as  rapidly  as  Pauline  had  intended  that  it  should, 
and  she  had  already  secured  from  Tom  a  promise 
to  take  a  short  cruise  with  them  after  the  tennis 
tournament  should  be  over. 

Tom  descended  to  the  tender,  took  his  place  in 
the  stern  sheets,  the  bell  rang,  the  tiny  propeller 
stirred  the  water,  and  the  launch  shot  shoreward. 

When  some  distance  from  the  yacht  Tom  turned 
and  lifted  his  hat  to  Pauline,  who  waved  her  hand 
in  reply.  He  was  pleased  with  the  afternoon  and 
with  himself.  Pauline  was  certainly  an  extraor 
dinary  girl,  a  corker.  She  had  a  mind  like  a  steel 
trap.  She  would  be  able  to  take  care  of  herself 
anywhere.  Again  his  thoughts  wandered  to  the 
Ionian  Sea  and  the  Golden  Horn.  How  about 
instinct? 

Why  shouldn't  he?  It  would  be  natural  for  any 
man  to  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  like  Pauline !  And 
in  place  of  the  pungent  smell  of  the  incoming  tide 
he  breathed  the  distant  odors  of  Araby  and  the 
strange  scents  of  the  mysterious  East.  He  was  a 
long  way  from  Newbury  Street  and  from  the  Moun 
tain  Home  House,  as  he  stepped  on  shore  at  the 
Yacht  Club  landing. 

On  board  the  yacht  Pauline  walked  slowly  back 
from  the  gang-plank  to  the  piano,  and  idly  struck 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       215 

a  few  chords  as  she  hummed  the  words  of  one  of 
Schumann's  love-songs. 

"It's  been  a  real  satisfactory  afternoon,"  said 
Mrs.  Selby  to  her  husband. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  like  that  Mr.  Kelly. 
He  seems  like  a  very  sensible  young  fellow." 

"Pauline  likes  him  too,"  added  his  wife,  as  if 
that  settled  it. 


XVIII 

WHEN  Tom,  on  awakening  the  following  morn 
ing,  found  that  the  valet  was  somewhat  slow  in 
answering  the  bell  he  experienced  a  distinct  feeling 
of  irritation.  What  business  had  the  fellow  not 
to  be  on  his  job !  But  presently  the  man  could 
be  heard  running  along  the  hall  and  King  Tom 
generously  forgave  him.  He  had  acquired  even  in 
those  brief  sixty  hours  in  Newport  a  vast  con 
fidence.  He  had  made  a  discovery.  It  was  not 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  well  introduced,  or  that 
he  was  a  member  of  an  aristocratic  Harvard  Club, 
nor  yet  that  he  was  the  coming  national  champion 
— to  which  he  owed  his  seemingly  instantaneous 
success!  These  things  neither  singly  nor  collec 
tively,  he  told  himself,  could  have  achieved  his 
conquests — such  as  they  were — of  Lulie  Wingate 
and  Pauline.  No,  it  was  something  beyond  and 
above  all  that — his  own  personality!  In  this  big 
world  in  which  he  was  no  inconspicuous  figure  the 
Scotts  were,  after  all,  nothing  very  wonderful  and 
— he  chuckled  condescendingly — the  old  "Wool 
sack"  was  nothing  at  all!  Whoever  had  even 
heard  of  it !  A  college  was  just  a  college,  and  one 
college  club  was  like  another.  But  one  man  was 

216 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       217 

not  like  another!  There  must  be  " something 
about  him." 

This  conviction  was  confirmed  by  the  further 
discovery  that  by  no  means  all  of  his  youthful  as 
sociates  possessed  the  same  assurance.  Even  Ray 
mond  Dwight — who  in  his  earlier  college  years 
had  seemed  to  Tom  to  occupy  an  unapproachable 
pinnacle  of  social  distinction — the  president  of  the 
class — "a  little  bit  off  the  top"  of  the  cream  of 
Bostonian  exclusiveness — who  had  turned  up  in 
Newport  on  a  visit,  seemed  diffident  and  some 
what  awkward.  He  even  acknowledged  to  Tom 
that  all  these  ultrafashionable  folk  made  him  sin 
gularly  uncomfortable.  They  were  different  some 
how  from  the  people  one  had  known  on  the  Back 
Bay. 

On  the  privacy  of  Bailey's  Beach  during  a  post- 
natatory  cigarette  he  confided  to  his  club-mate  that 
it  made  him  feel  like  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret  not 
knowing  who  they  all  were — at  home  he  knew  who 
everybody  was  and  his  next-of-kin  were,  who  his 
ancestors  had  been,  and  who,  in  all  probability,  his 
heirs,  executors,  assigns,  and  even  his  descendants 
would  be — but  here !  There  were  so  many  of  them 
that  you  could  never  hope  to  find  out  who  the  really 
right  people  were  at  all !  It  was  disquieting — noth 
ing  fixed  or  settled  about  it!  Those  Selbys,  for 
instance !  Imagine  their  getting  in  on  the  North 
Shore — never!  He  envied  Tom  his  ability  to  get 
on  with  everybody.  Really  Tom  had  developed  a 
lot  and  everybody  said  he  was  cutting  quite  a  dash ! 


218       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Tom  did  not  deny  these  soft  impeachments  and 
gave  his  friend,  without  saying  so,  the  impression 
that  some  fellows  developed  later  than  others  and 
that  some  were  naturally  fitted  for  wider  social  ex 
periences.  He  admitted  he  got  along  all  right — a 
fact  due  probably  to  his  broader  point  of  view. 
Boston  was  a  pretty  small  place,  after  all,  even  if 
it  was  socially  impeccable.  For  example,  he  had 
dined  on  Beacon  Street  at  a  formal  dinner  where 
they  had  not  served  champagne.  Raymond  would 
have  to  admit  that  such  a  thing  was  impossible  in 
a  really  cosmopolitan  circle.  As  to  the  Selbys,  they 
were  in  a  process  of  "  transmogrification" — he  had 
seen  the  word  in  a  magazine.  The  next  generation 
would  be  socially  impregnable.  Even  the  oldest 
families  of  Boston  had  been  in  trade  originally — 
china  merchants  and  that  sort  of  thing.  The  Sel 
bys  were  all  right — solid  Americans — a  little  near 
the  factory  as  yet — but  the  old  man  had  ten  mil 
lion.  Raymond  shrugged  his  shoulders  but  later 
Tom  took  an  elfin  satisfaction  in  meeting  him  on 
one  of  Pauline's  yachting-parties. 

Gradually  as  the  weeks  passed  Tom  began  to 
assume  a  severely  critical  attitude  toward  these 
new  friends  of  his  whose  dinners  he  deigned  to  eat. 
Had  there  been  fewer  roses  in  his  path  he  would 
doubtless  have  been  less  censorious,  but  people 
took  him  nearly  at  his  own  valuation — as  they 
usually  do  everybody — and  his  own  valuation  of 
himself  was  at  that  moment  exceedingly  high.  He 
had  in  fact  just  learned  what  a  swan  he  was.  His 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       219 

late  mornings  in  bed  at  the  Scott's,  when  after  one 
of  those  royal  Dresden  or  Sevres  breakfasts  he 
indulged  in  day-dreams  slightly  narcotic  with  the 
statuesque  form  of  the  Grecian  lady  at  precisely 
the  most  alluring  distance,  were  enervating  and 
afforded  an  undesirable  opportunity  for  self-mag 
nification.  Instinctively  he  compared  himself  with 
the  other  men  whom  he  met  and  was  constantly 
meeting — to  his  own  advantage.  There  was,  he 
told  himself,  a  very  good  reason  why  all  these  women 
liked  him.  He  was  a  well-born,  cultured  Bostonian 
(he  eliminated  his  mother's  rather  dingy  origin), 
a  graduate  of  Harvard  and  a  member  of  a  chic  club 
there,  athletic  and  at  least  moderately  good-look 
ing,  knew  everybody,  was  a  crack  tennis-player  and 
likely  to  become  national  champion — well,  what 
more  could  anybody  want?  Were  the  girls  much 
to  blame  if  they  cottoned  to  him?  On  the  con 
trary,  would  it  not  have  been  strange  had  they  not 
done  so? 

Tom  was  ignorant  of  those  many  charming  New 
port  homes  whose  owners  had  never  been  invited 
to  a  "monkey  dinner,"  and  would  not  have  gone 
to  one  had  they  been  asked.  He  did  not  meet  any 
of  those  courtly  old  men  and  women,  who  having 
lived  in  most  of  the  capitals  of  Europe,  have  chosen 
Newport  as  their  residence  and  constitute  a  social 
circle  which  has  no  golden  key. 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  life  that  he  led 
soon  seemed  good  to  him.  Was  it  not  what  every 
body  was  working  for?  Was  it  not  the  ne  plus 


220      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

ultra?  And  it  was  his  already — at  twenty-two! 
He  could  begin  now — to-morrow,  if  he  chose — 
where  others  left  off!  There  was  Pa  Selby,  for 
instance,  who  had  worked  all  his  life  putting  soup 
and  things  in  tin  cans  and  who  now  at  sixty-five 
was  just  letting  up!  What  had  he  got  out  of  it? 
Nothing  but  the  chance  of  having  Tom  condescend 
to  marry  his  daughter!  The  other  old  men  were 
just  the  same.  They  had  slaved  like  pups  to  get 
a  lot  of  money  and  now  they  didn't  know  how  to 
spend  it  or  had  spent  it  so  freely  that  there  was 
nothing  left  for  them  to  buy!  They  were,  so  to 
speak,  dog-tired  of  everything.  During  the  next 
month  Tom  went  to  many  entertainments  where 
the  struggle  to  escape  ennui  was  only  too  apparent. 
And  just  as  if  these  people  knew  that  it  would  be 
fatal  ever  to  stop  and  inquire  whether  or  not  they 
were  really  enjoying  themselves  they  rushed  madly 
from  one  thing  to  another  in  the  hope  that  in  the 
mere  multiplicity  of  amusements  they  could  evade 
boredom. 

At  the  end  of  his  first  week  Tom  had  only  seen 
his  hostess  four  times — once  on  the  afternoon  of 
his  arrival,  once  at  lunch,  and  twice  when  the  family 
entertained  at  dinner.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  was 
away — on  yachting-parties,  picnics,  teas,  lunches, 
dinner-dances,  and  at  a  host  of  minor  entertain 
ments.  It  was  a  curious  sort  of  visiting,  but  it 
was  agreeably  independent.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
suddenly  come  into  a  wonderful  inheritance — of 
his  title  to  which  he  had  previously  lived  in  ig- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       221 

norance.  Everybody  seemed  bent  on  giving  him 
the  best  possible  time,  seemed  to  think  him  a  prince 
of  good  fellows!  Older  men  called  him  familiarly 
by  his  first  name.  Snobbish  mammas  with  mar 
riageable  daughters  eagerly  sought  him  out.  Even 
his  classmates  and  the  men  of  his  own  age  treated 
him  with  a  certain  deference.  What  wonder  that 
the  erstwhile  shabby  and  disgruntled  Tom  began 
to  feel  that  all  this  was  his  due  and  that  the  world 
lay  at  his  feet — to  kick  if  he  chose. 

And  since  nothing  succeeds  like  success  and  among 
bluffers  he  who  bluffs  best  is  king,  Tom  achieved  for 
a  brief  season  a  succes  fou  that  opened  every  door 
to  him  and  completely  turned  his  ignorant  young 
head.  With  this  came  an  access  of  assurance  on 
his  part  that  caused  his  friend  Allyn  untold  amuse 
ment.  For  finding  that  to  assert  virtue  was,  in 
this  society,  tantamount  to  having  it,  Tom,  adroitly 
seized  every  opportunity  to  advertise  himself,  in 
a  good-natured  sort  of  way,  confidently  laying 
claim  to  an  inherited  social  position  in  Boston, 
and  a  manner  of  living  that  would  have  astounded 
Bridget  and  Aunt  Eliza  had  they  heard  of  it. 

It  is  an  ancient  and  common  failing.  Even  in 
the  old  coffee-house  days  Addison  speaking  of  the 
army  in  the  Spectator  makes  Captain  Sentry  la 
ment  that  in  a  profession  where  merit  is  placed  in 
so  conspicuous  a  view,  impudence  should  get  the 
better  of  modesty.  The  same  thing  always  has 
been  and  still  is  true  of  the  world  at  large  and  smart 
society  in  particular.  The  unscrupulous  take  ad- 


222       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

vantage  of  the  fact  that  honest  folk  are  slow  to 
attribute  evil  motives  to  the  actions  of  others. 
They  know  that  people  are,  on  the  whole,  good- 
natured,  easy-going,  and  lazy,  and  that  they  can 
safely  presume  upon  these  qualities  at  least  to  the 
extent  of  making  statements  of  fact  the  accuracy 
of  which  will  never  be  questioned. 

So  Tom,  besides  being  known  as  a  handsome, 
good-humored,  clean-limbed  young  Yankee  (which 
he  really  was),  was  soon  surrounded  by  a  nimbus 
of  glory  to  which  he  was  totally  unentitled,  arising 
from  the  fact  that  he  was  reputed  to  be  of  a  lineage 
distinguished  even  in  Boston — everybody  persuaded 
himself  that  he  had  always  heard  of  the  Kellys — 
solidly  backed  by  the  wealth  and  culture  of  the 
Back  Bay,  and  with  a  future  foreordained  to  great 
ness  by  virtue  of  the  influence  of  his  connections. 

Though  Tom's  attitude  of  condescension  toward 
the  Newport  world  at  large  included,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  Lulie  and  Allyn,  even  the  Scotts,  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  to  administer  their  compli 
cated  menage  must  require  somewhere  an  observ 
ing  eye  and  a  directing  brain  of  no  ordinary  ca 
pacity.  It  would  have  astounded  him  to  learn  that, 
placing  little  reliance  upon  the  honesty  and  as 
siduity  of  professional  housekeepers,  Mrs.  Scott  de 
voted  as  much  detailed  attention  to  the  manage 
ment  of  "Beausejour"  as  Mrs.  Kelly  did  to  her 
modest  establishment  on  Newbury  Street.  Yet 
it  was  a  fact  that  while  Tom  lolled  above  in  the 
mornings  in  drowsy  luxury,  his  rather  prim  and  dis- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       223 

tinctly  conventional  hostess  was  down  betimes 
overseeing  the  work  in  house  and  garden  and  en 
forcing  rigidly  the  economies  of  lavishness.  In  an 
office  somewhat  less  elaborate  than  her  husband's 
"den,"  at  a  desk  upon  which  stood  a  formidable 
alignment  of  morocco-bound  note-books,  she  in 
terviewed  the  butler,  chef,  and  head  gardener,  and 
issued  her  orders  for  the  day.  She  knew  the  exact 
number  of  quarts  of  milk  and  cream,  the  number 
of  pounds  of  butter,  the  amount  of  wine  consumed 
daily  within  her  gates.  Even  the  number  of  cigars 
placed  in  Tom's  bedroom  was  a  matter  of  record. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  small  shopkeeper  in 
"upstate"  New  York,  and  had  later  become  a 
teacher  of  singing  and  a  drawing-room  vocalist  in 
the  metropolis.  Few  of  her  acquaintances  or  even 
of  her  friends  had  any  knowledge  of  this  period  of 
her  career,  for  she  had  caught  Mr.  Scott  young  and 
eliminated  all  trace  of  Skaneateles  by  a  prolonged 
sojourn  in  Europe.  She  had  no  illusions,  knew  the 
cost  of  everything,  including  her  own  present  social 
position,  and  was  quite  satisfied  to  pay  the  price. 
She  would  have  been  astonished  but  not  horrified 
to  learn  that  she  was  considered  snobbish  and  cold 
blooded.  On  the  whole,  she  regarded  both  these 
qualities  as  rather  desirable.  She  admired  her  son 
and  daughter  as  "smart,"  but  judged  Allyn  a  fool 
for  drinking  and  Lulie  stupid  for  getting  herself 
talked  about.  Otherwise  she  was  quite  content 
with  them.  Mr.  Scott  was  satisfactory.  She  had 
no  complaints  to  make  about  him,  and  he,  poor 


224      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

man,  after  his  original  uxorial  error  in  mistaking 
Labrador  for  Senegambia,  accepted  the  lady  as 
he  found  her  and  devoted  himself  to  being  a  gentle 
man,  in  which  line  at  the  age  of  sixty-one  he  had 
achieved  no  little  success.  He  could  read  and  speak 
French,  German,  and  Italian,  and  had  a  collection 
of  mildly  improper  anecdotes  in  each  language. 
He  was  a  student  of  art,  a  connoisseur  in  wines, 
and  widely  read  in  the  modern  literature  of  most 
countries. 

He  was  modest,  abstemious,  and  his  waistcoat 
had  a  concavity  unfamiliar  to  Newport.  He  al 
lowed  others  to  do  the  talking,  took  his  orders  from 
his  wife,  and  conducted  himself  both  in  public  and 
private  after  the  manner  of  a  well-behaved  curate 
of  the  established  church.  Like  his  spouse,  nothing 
escaped  his  eye  or  his  nose,  yet  not  even  in  the 
privacy  of  the  connubial  couch  did  either  of  them 
discard  the  pose  which  they  had  assumed.  They 
were  always  comme  ilfaut.  Like  a  certain  celebrated 
lady  in  a  famous  divorce-suit,  her  husband  was  re 
puted  never  to  have  seen  her — so  to  speak — in 
dishabille.  They  were  to  each  other  as  they  were 
to  the  world.  But  they  played  at  living  and  acted 
very  stupid  parts,  so  that  they  seemed  much  duller 
than  they  really  were. 

Tom,  in  his  blindness,  took  them  for  a  pair  of 
fools,  for  neither  seemed  at  all  familiar  with  those 
matters  of  ordinary  knowledge  which  he  was  con 
vinced  every  lady  and  gentleman  should  know,  and 
he  not  infrequently  put  them  right.  Mr.  Scott 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       225 

particularly  appeared  to  find  much  that  was  stim 
ulating  and  entertaining  in  Tom's  conversation,  and 
often  laughed  quite  unexpectedly  in  a  mild  and 
gentlemanly  way  at  what  he  said.  The  longer 
he  stayed  at  "B  cause  jour"  the  more  Tom  won 
dered  that  two  such  idiots  could  get  along  as  they 
did,  and  one  evening  in  a  corner  of  the  billiard- 
room  over  a  glass  of  the  Scott  port  he  confided  as 
much  to  Parradym.  Under  the  influence  of  its 
fragrant  old  bouquet  he  launched  forth  into  a  gen 
eral  indictment  of  the  individuals  composing  the 
society  about  them.  Many,  he  admitted,  were 
clever  people  enough,  but  the  majority,  he  declared, 
were  too  stupid  to  live,  or,  if  they  were  not  stupid, 
utterly  mannerless.  This  last  comment  was  based 
almost  exclusively  upon  the  fact  that  one  distin 
guished  lady  had  that  afternoon  at  the  Casino 
shown  no  marked  enthusiasm  at  meeting  Tom. 

"It's  inconceivable  to  me,  my  dear  fellow," 
he  exclaimed,  "how  these  old  dodos  here  in  New 
port  can  be  so  dull.  It's  a  wonder  they've  got  any 
money  left  to  live  on,  it  would  be  so  easy  to  get  it 
away  from  them.  And  the  women  are  so  disgust 
ingly  rude !  I'm  surprised  that  you — an  intelligent 
man — can  find  any  pleasure  in  this  society!" 

He  clicked  his  tongue  thickly  in  a  superior  way 
and  poured  out  another  glass  of  the  port.  He  had 
already  consumed  two  cocktails,  three  glasses  of 
champagne,  one  of  claret,  and  a  Scotch  and  soda, 
in  consequence  of  which  everything  seemed  very 
far  away  and  rather  blurred,  and  what  he  had  to 


226       THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS   KELLY 

say  to  Parry  very,  very  important,  indeed.  He  felt 
kindly  toward  Parradym.  He  was  a  good  old  sort, 
after  all.  He  felt  kindly  toward  everybody,  really 
— what  he  was  saying  was  more  theoretical  than 
anything  else.  He  would  have  slapped  old  man 
Scott  on  the  back  if  he'd  been  there — he  was  really 
quite  a  good  sort,  too,  even  if  he  was  more  or  less 
of  an  ass. 

Parradym  looked  at  him  contemplatively  but 
good-naturedly. 

"In  the  golden  age  of  childhood,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  he,  "we  look  upon  all  Olympians,  and  in  fact 
everybody  but  ourselves,  as  fools.  They  do  such 
ridiculous  things!  They're  always  washing  and 
dressing  up  instead  of  having  a  good  time  playing 
around  in  the  mud.  And  they  surround  us  with 
all  sorts  of  arbitrary  and  absurd  rules  and  laws, 
about  what  to  eat,  and  when  to  go  to  bed,  and  how 
not  to  get  drowned — just  as  if  anybody  wanted  to 
get  drowned!" 

"'Zactly!"  nodded  Tom  benignly. 

"Later  we  pass  into  another  stage,"  continued 
Parry.  "We  see  some  of  the  reasons  for  these  sup 
posed  absurdities  and  we  discover  that  it  takes 
brains  and  ability  to  make  a  living.  But  life  still 
seems  very  simple,  and  our  estimates  of  people 
are  of  the  snap-shot  variety  and  generally  made 
without  allowances.  We're  strong  and  well,  and 
to  us  everybody  must  be  strong  and  well.  People 
who  do  not  at  first  blush  conform  to  our  standards 
of  intelligence  or  manners  are  uncompromisingly 
put  down  by  us  as  fools,  idiots,  or  ruffians." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       227 

"Oh,  no!"  protested  Tom  in  a  detached  sort  of 
way.  "Tha's  too  strong,  you  know!" 

Parradym  shook  his  head. 

"There's  nothing  so  cruel  as  the  judgment  of 
youth.  It  has  no  verdict  'with  extenuating  cir 
cumstances.'  A  person  is  either  good  or  bad.  Peo 
ple  are  either  heroes  or  cads.  We  are  ready  to  at 
tribute  the  basest  of  motives  for  the  most  trifling 
acts.  We  demand  of  our  parents,  our  sisters,  our 
brothers,  and  our  friends  that  they  should  all  be 
as  perfect  as  the  peerless  princes  and  princesses  of 
our  fairy-books." 

Tom  laughed.  Parry  was  right.  No  one  ought 
to  be  held  to  any  such  standard  as  that.  But  his 
friend's  face  had  taken  on  a  serious  expression. 

"Yet  as  we  go  on,"  said  Parradym  with  some 
earnestness,  "we  learn  that  nobody  is  either  good 
or  bad.  And  that  anybody  who  has  been  obliged 
to  live  in  this  funny  old  world  for  thirty  or  forty 
years  generally  has  had  some  sense  knocked  into 
his  head,  at  least  so  far  as  his  own  self-interest  is 
concerned.  We  are  ready  to  believe  that  strangers 
or  casual  acquaintances  are  quite  ready  to  insult 
or  snub  us  on  the  slightest  provocation,  whereas 
men  of  the  world  discover  very  early  in  the  game 
of  life  that  there  is  nothing  so  expensive  as  un 
necessary  rudeness,  and  this  lesson  is  soon  learned 
by  everybody  who  mixes  much  in  society.  In  point 
of  actual  fact  very  few  people  are  deliberately  rude. 
Those  that  are  generally  turn  out  to  be  genuine 
fools,  of  which,  of  course,  there  is  a  scattering  still 
about.  But  I  think  I'm  right  in  saying  that  the 


228       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

only  safe  assumption  to  work  on  is  that  the  or 
dinary  person  whom  you  meet,  whether  man  or 
woman,  is  probably  very  much  like  other  people, 
neither  a  hero  nor  a  villain,  anxious  to  appear  to 
the  best  advantage  before  everybody,  quite  willing 
to  go  half-way,  not  disposed  to  conscious  rude 
ness,  ready  to  return  favor  for  favor,  and  more 
than  able  to  look  out  for  him  or  her  self  so  far  as 
dollars  and  cents  are  concerned.  The  man  whom 
you  regard  as  a  'stuffed  shirt/  simply  because  he 
looks  like  a  boiled  cod  or  an  unboiled  rabbit,  will 
probably  end  by  making  a  fool  of  you.  He  can't 
have  nosed  around  for  half  a  lifetime  without  hav 
ing  learned  to  go  in  when  it  rains  or  to  keep  out  of 
copper  stocks.  He  looks  like  a  cod  because  his 
forebears  looked  like  'em.  Not  because  he's  got 
anything  the  matter  with  his  head  or  his  heart. 
Most  people  are  moderately  honest,  nobody  ab 
solutely  so.  'Diogenes'  job,'  as  some  one  has  said, 
'is  still  open/  But  take  people  by  and  large  and 
they'll  give  you  back  just  about  what  you  hand 
them.  And  there's  usually  a  reason  if  they  don't — 
they  may  not  have  seen  you,  or  heard  what  you 
said,  or  they  may  be  absent-minded.  Just  because 
Smith  doesn't  bow  to  you  on  Fifth  Avenue  isn't 
any  real  ground  for  supposing  that  he  has  a  mortal 
grudge  against  you  or  wishes  to  make  you  an  enemy 
for  life.  That  is  arrogating  to  oneself  too  much 
prominence  in  Smith's  cosmos.  Instead  of  trying 
to  insult  you,  he  is  probably  wondering  where  he 
put  his  opera- tickets " 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       229 

Parradym  chuckled  and  laid  his  hand  affection 
ately  on  Tom's  knee  as  the  others  rose  to  join  the 
women  in  the  drawing-room. 

"Be  a  little  easier  on  'em,  my  boy!"  he  whis 
pered. 


XIX 

IT  was  half  after  one  the  next  morning  when 
Tom,  the  last  guests  having  left  the  house,  made 
his  way  with  some  difficulty  toward  the  royal  suite. 
He  had  had  a  very  pleasant  evening,  and  while  he 
had  been  somewhat  noisy  in  talking  to  the  women 
after  dinner,  he  had  not  been  conspicuously  al 
coholic  in  a  gathering  where  entire  sobriety  was 
the  exception  rather  than  the  rule.  People  were 
good-natured  with  Tom  because  most  of  them  liked 
him  and  because  he  was  rather  the  fashion.  It  is 
doubtful  if  at  this  period  any  kind  friend  would 
have  taken  it  upon  himself  to  hint  that  his  con 
duct  was  not  exemplary,  however  extreme  it  might 
have  been.  But  it  was  due  to  the  number  of  brandies 
that  he  had  consumed,  and  not  to  the  natural  ama- 
tiveness  of  his  disposition,  that  he  presumed  to  hold 
the  hands  of  several  young  ladies — including  Pau 
line's — somewhat  longer  than  the  occasion  de 
manded.  Nevertheless,  as  he  told  himself,  he  had 
"got  away  with  it."  He  had  already  discovered 
by  experience  that  only  the  bold  had  favor  with 
the  fair.  The  bolder  you  were  the  better,  partic 
ularly  with  the  older  women.  "If  the  women  are 
older,  you  have  to  be  bolder,"  he  told  Allyn.  He 
had  learned  this  from  observing  the  success  of  a 

230 


THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY       231 

certain  young  scion  of  the  local  nobility — a  most 
unattractive  person — whose  head  was  a  couple  of 
sizes  too  large  for  the  rest  of  his  body  and  whose 
features  resembled  those  of  the  late  Mr.  Bunny. 
Yet  in  spite  of  his  physical  limitations  this  peculiar 
youth  had  an  astonishing  vogue  with  the  opposite 
sex. 

"All  you  need  is  la  confiance !"  explained  the 
pimply  Lothario  with  a  superior  grin. 

This  philandering  apparently  occupied  a  large 
portion  of  the  working  hours  of  the  men  in  society, 
particularly  after  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
Every  Jack  had  his  Jill,  even  if  both  were  fully 
aware  that  the  arrangement  was  only  temporary. 
Trial  engagements — if  not  trial  marriages — were 
obviously  popular.  One  baby-blue-eyed  virgin  of 
nineteen  boasted  to  Tom  that  she  was  engaged  to 
eight  "men"  all  at  once.  It  seemed  to  be  quite 
customary  to  be  engaged  to  two  or  three,  and  the 
intercourse  between  the  sexes  at  Newport  con 
sisted  largely  of  a  sort  of  amorous  dallying,  half 
jocular  and  half  serious,  coloring  everything  with  a 
romantic  glamour.  If  a  young  man  was  not  frankly 
pursuing  some  girl  or  married  woman,  he  was 
viewed  as  peculiar,  to  say  the  least,  and  treated  as 
the  legitimate  object  of  suspicion.  Every  incentive 
possible  was  offered  to  the  love  game,  and  Tom,  tri 
fling  with  passion  along  with  the  others,  discovered 
to  his  satisfaction  that  his  pursuit  of  Lulie  Win- 
gate — of  the  guest  for  the  daughter  of  the  house 
where  he  was  visiting — was  almost  de  rigueur.  Thus 


232       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

he  found  it  easy  to  devise  meetings  with  her,  for 
which  she  showed  no  disinclination.  Always,  how 
ever,  their  conversation  had  flowed  along  the  lines 
of  that  first  evening  when  she  had  assumed  the  be 
coming  pose  of  a  misunderstood  wife  and  daughter. 
It  was  a  charming  pose,  albeit  Tom  knew  it  to  be 
one.  But  he  liked  it  none  the  less  and  played  up 
to  her  spiritedly  with  his  recently  acquired  gloss 
of  culture.  Yet  this  evening,  when  unexpectedly 
they  met  at  the  turn  in  the  long  corridor  of  the 
bachelor  wing,  he  somehow  felt  that  the  time  had 
come  to  put  things  on  a  less  distantly  sentimental 
and  more  intimate  and  vital  footing.  Had  he  been 
less  exhilarated  it  is  doubtful  if  this  "  caveman 
stuff" — as  he  afterward  described  it — would  have 
appealed  to  him.  He  would,  at  any  rate,  have  con 
sidered  before  he  acted  as  precipitately  as  he  did. 
As  it  was,  he  did  not  ask  himself  what  on  earth 
she  could  be  doing  there  at  nearly  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  He  only  knew  that  he  was  face  to 
face  with  her  in  the  stillness  of  the  night — alone  in 
a  remote  part  of  the  house.  That  did  occur  to  him. 
She  was  coming  quite  rapidly  along  the  hall  as  if 
she  had  been  somewhere,  and  the  red  silken  hang 
ings  reflected  the  glow  of  the  shaded  electric  lamps 
along  the  walls,  and  gave  her  cheeks  a  transparent 
crimson  tinge  that  by  contrast  with  the  black  storm- 
clouds  of  her  hair  made  her  skin  delicately  ex 
quisite — like  a  picture  he  had  once  seen  of  a  girl 
shading  a  candle  with  her  hand.  She  hesitated 
and  almost  stopped  at  sight  of  him,  then  came  on 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       233 

toward  him  with  a  smile.  Tom,  emboldened  by 
his  evening  of  success,  forgot  that  she  had  never 
yet  allowed  him  to  touch  her  hand.  He  saw  only 
the  crimson,  translucent  color  of  her  skin  and  the 
smouldering  fires  in  her  black  eyes. 

He  was  happy  and  more  than  a  little  drunk,  be 
lieved  that  Lulie  liked  him  and  that  she  would  go 
quite  a  way  with  him  if  she  had  the  chance  and 
— well! — he  felt  la  confiance.  He  did  not  ques 
tion  the  propriety  under  all  the  circumstances  of 
his  making  rather  violent,  if  not  forcible,  love  to 
this  experienced  daughter  of  his  hostess.  If  the 
things  he  had  heard  about  her  were  all  true — !  She 
had  not  been  immune  by  any  means  from  the  after- 
dinner  attacks  of  the  scandal  specialists — male 
and  female.  And  had  he  not  caught  her  himself 
in  the  dark  with  a  man?  So  he  sidled  up  and  told 
her  that  he  loved  her  merely,  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
to  tell  her  so  at  dinner.  There  was  a  vast  difference 
between  this  declaration  and  that  other  of  less  than 
two  months  ago  made  to  Evelyn — under  the  elms 
of  Class  Day — that  declaration  which  had  elicited 
no  response  from  the  recipient.  But  in  one  respect 
at  least  this  was  a  much  more  genuine  affair.  He 
had  never  had  any  real  confidence  that  Evelyn  would 
consent  to  be  his  wife,  but  he  did  have  a  certain 
amount  of  confidence  that  Lulie  might  consent  to 
have  an  affair  of  some  sort  with  him.  And  his 
literary  sense  of  the  proprieties — which  had  led 
him  to  propose  to  Evelyn — now  rushed  to  the  sup 
port  of  his  desire  and  impelled  him  at  least  to  essay 


234       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  conquest  of  Lulie.  "The  time,  the  place,  and 
the  girl !"  All  that  sort  of  thing.  Every  suggestive 
influence  of  the  so-called  comic-opera  stage  of  twenty 
years  ago  was  stirring  in  him  at  that  moment.  Why, 
if  he  didn't  kiss  her,  what  a  chump  she  would  think 
him !  She  probably  got  kissed  all  the  time.  He'd 
kiss  her,  anyway. 

Probably  many  a  decent  girl  has  been  similarly 
cornered  and,  perhaps,  escaped  only  by  yielding 
partially  to  force  of  circumstances.  But  Lulie 
had  had  a  short  lifetime  of  lovers,  alcoholic  and 
otherwise.  Therefore,  when  Tom  pushed  her  against 
the  scarlet  curtains  into  the  embrasure  of  the  win 
dow,  she  neither  shrieked  nor  dealt  him  a  blow  in 
the  face.  On  the  contrary,  she  laughed  more  or 
less  good-naturedly,  squeezed  the  hot  hand  which 
had  seized  hers,  and  said  chaffingly: 

"Heavens,  Mr.  Kelly!  How  ardent  we  sud 
denly  are!" 

She  stood  half-hidden,  her  marble-white  arms 
and  neck  gleaming  softly  amid  the  silken  hangings, 
a  teasing  smile  on  her  lips.  How  slim  and  round 
and  soft  those  arms  looked  to  Tom !  He  wanted 
to  press  his  lips  to  them,  to  wind  them  about  his 
neck.  Nature  was  getting  the  upper  hand  with 
this  somewhat  intoxicated  young  gentleman. 

"I'm  not  joking,  Lulie!"  he  panted.  "I  mean 
it !  Lulie — little  girl — I  love  you !" 

He  tried  to  clasp  her  to  him  but  the  curtains  in 
terfered,  and  stepping  away,  clear  of  them,  she 
turned  angrily  upon  him. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       235 

"Let  me  by!"  she  cried,  with  a  metallic  ring  in 
her  voice.  "You're  crazy!  Let  go  of  me!  Let 
me  by — do  you  hear?" 

Tom  gave  a  brusque  laugh.  Of  course  she  had  to 
pretend  to  be  angry.  He  threw  both  arms  about  her. 

"Kiss  me  first!" 

She  shrank  from  him  and  struggled  to  disengage 
herself. 

Then,  finding  this  to  be  impossible,  she  faced 
him  again  and  clutched  the  friendly  hangings. 

"Some  one  might  come  along  here  any  moment! 
Please  let  me  go!"  she  begged  in  a  whisper. 

"Then  kiss  me!" 

He  had  torn  her  left  hand  from  the  curtain  and 
had  crushed  both  her  arms  tightly  to  her  sides. 
He  would  have  his  way  with  her  no  matter  what 
happened.  She  had  ceased  to  struggle,  but  had 
thrown  her  head  as  far  back  as  she  could  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  lips.  And  then — at  the  very  climax 
of  this  interesting  scene — Tom  suddenly  found 
himself  without  any  inspiration  to  go  on  with  it. 
Desire  had  blazed  in  him  as  he  had  broken  down 
her  defenses,  but  now  that  he  was  inside  the  en 
closure,  for  some  curious  reason  he  had  lost  the 
spirit  of  the  adventure.  Yet  this  was  no  time  to 
play  the  hesitating  lover.  He  must  go  on  with  the 
motions. 

"I  love  you,  Lulie,"  he  heard  himself  repeat, 
reaching  for  her  lips. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  repeated  hoarsely.  "For  the 
love  of  God!" 


236       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

He  experienced  a  moment  of  self-reproach.  Sup 
posing  she  really  didn't  want  his  caresses?  Suppose 
he  was  forcing  himself  on  her?  That  would  be  a 
fine  performance !  There  was  something  also  de 
cidedly  awkward  in  their  position,  for  holding  her 
helpless  as  he  was,  her  weight  almost  caused  him  to 
lose  his  equilibrium.  He  didn't  know  exactly  what 
to  do.  If  he  kissed  her,  they  would  probably  go 
over  all  at  once  with  a  crash!  He  had  ceased  to 
want  to  kiss  her — that  way.  He  didn't  like  forcing 
people.  She  would  probably  hate  him  forever- 
more.  Nobody  liked  to  be  man-handled,  least  of 
all  a  high-spirited  girl  like  Lulie.  No,  she  could 
go !  Instinctively  he  released  his  right  hand  and 
steadied  himself  with  the  curtain.  He  was  now 
holding  Lulie  only  with  his  left  arm,  and  she  could 
easily  have  escaped.  He  expected  her — was  wait 
ing  for  her — to  do  so.  He  looked  down  into  her 
face.  Her  eyes  were  shut,  her  lips  slightly  parted. 
By  Jove !  She  was  a  pretty  girl !  In  another  in 
stant  his  lips  were  upon  hers. 

They  were  in  this  very  definite  position  when  a 
masculine  voice  became  suddenly  audible  behind 
them.  Lulie  thrust  herself  quickly  from  him. 

"Let  me  go  !  What  do  you  mean !"  she  shrieked 
savagely  at  the  unfortunate  Tom. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  said  the  voice. 

Tom  pulled  himself  together  as  best  he  could. 
A  tall  man  clad  in  a  vicuna  dressing-gown  and 
smoking  a  cigarette  was  standing  about  ten  feet 
distant.  He  was  clean-shaven,  well-built,  athletic. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       237 

Blind  fury  took  possession  of  Tom.  What  busi 
ness  had  this  fellow  to  spy  on  them?  He'd  show 
this  peeper  how  to  behave  himself !  Lulie  had  fled 
down  the  corridor  and  disappeared. 

"Mind  your  own  business!"  snarled  our  hero. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  repeated  the  gentleman 
in  the  dressing-gown.  "But,  you  know,  it  is  my 
business  in  a  sort  of  way." 

"How  is  it  your  business,  I'd  like  to  know?" 
demanded  Tom  in  a  bullying  tone. 

"Well,  you  see,"  politely  continued  the  other, 
"you  seemed  to  be  kissing  my  wife.  I  may  be  mis 
taken,  of  course.  But  I  was  quite  distinctly  of  that 
impression.  Come  now,  weren't  you  kissing  her?" 

Tom  was  too  taken  aback  to  make  any  reply. 
So  this  was  Wingate !  In  a  flash  he  recognized  the 
man  he  had  seen  lighting  his  cigar  in  the  garden 
with  Lulie.  What  on  earth  was  Wingate  doing  at 
the  Scotts'  house  ?  And  why  in  Heaven's  name  had 
he  been  such  an  idiot  as  to  tackle  Lulie  that  way 
before  finding  out  how  she  came  to  be  there?  He 
was  entirely  sober  by  now.  Mr.  Wingate  was  re 
garding  him  with  slightly  amused  surprise. 

"I  don't  think  we've  met!"  he  remarked.  Then 
he  added  curiously:  "Anyhow,  I  think  you're  just 
a  little  drunk,  you  know.  Well,  she's  an  all-fired 
pretty  woman,  my  lad — good  luck  to  you !  And 
good  night!" 

Tom  did  not  reply  to  Mr.  Wingate.  On  the 
contrary,  he  most  ungraciously  left  him  standing 
by  the  fatal  crimson  curtains  which  had  indirectly 


238       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

been  the  cause  of  the  whole  trouble.  He  wanted 
a  drink  and  he  wanted  it  quick — with  ice  in  it.  He 
entered  his  room,  filled  a  tall  glass  with  Scotch, 
cracked  ice,  and  carbonic,  and  threw  himself  at  full 
length  on  a  chaise  longue. 

Here  was  a  nice  mess,  no  matter  how  you  looked 
at  it !  He  had  been  caught  with  the  goods !  To 
morrow  Wingate  would  probably  smash  his  face. 
But  why  hadn't  he  done  so  then  and  there?  Be 
cause  of  Lulie,  probably.  By  George !  it  really 
was  hard  on  her.  She  wasn't  to  blame  at  all,  but 
she  never  would  be  able  to  make  her  husband  be 
lieve  it.  In  fact,  it  had  not  occurred  to  Tom  to  at 
tempt  to  put  in  a  defense  for  her.  But  then,  nothing 
had  occurred  to  him !  He  was  a  slob — that  was 
just  what  he  was!  He  lit  cigarette  after  cigarette 
and  gradually  his  thoughts  straightened  out.  Of 
course  to-morrow  he'd  have  to  go  and  exonerate 
Lulie  and  apologize  to  Wingate.  Then  he'd  have 
to  apologize  to  Lulie!  Wingate  had  been  rather 
decent  on  the  whole.  Why  had  he  tried  to  kiss 
Lulie,  anyway?  He  kicked  his  heels  together  dis 
gustedly,  lying  on  the  couch. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  door  was  opened  cau 
tiously  and  Parradym  appeared.  Tom  felt  rather 
glad  to  see  him.  The  "Little  Brother  of  the 
Rich"  had  evidently  been  for  a  stroll  before  going 
to  bed. 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  "as  my  friend  Monte  Flagg 
says,  nothing  exceeds  like  sexcess!" 

"I  suppose  you  think  that's  funny!"   retorted 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       239 

Tom  gloomily  from  the  couch.  "If  you  only  knew 
the  mess  I'm  in  you'd  think  it  was  tragic!  ' Sex- 
cess  '!  Oh,  Lord!" 

Parradym  squirted  himself  out  a  half -glass  of  car 
bonic  without  ice. 

"Oh,  I  know — I  met  Wingate  in  the  hall.  Says 
he  caught  you  kissing  his  wife — or  vice  versa— 
he  doesn't  quite  seem  to  know  which." 

"He  needn't  worry,"  answered  Tom.  "I'm  the 
criminal." 

"There's  a — excuse  me — a  rather  humorous  side 
to  it,"  continued  Parry.  "The  fact  is  that  our 
young  friends  had  just  had  a  sort  of  reconciliation 
at  the  Welfleets'  garden-party,  the  final  result  of 
which  was  that  Lulie  promised  to  be  very,  very 
good,  and  Jim  swore  never,  never  to  be  naughty 
again,  and  thereupon  madam  invited  son-in-law 
over  here  to  stay  for  a  while.  He  came  this  after 
noon  and  has  the  cgold-and-black  room'  next  to 
mine.  Lulie,  of  course,  remains  in  her  own  suite 
in  the  main  part  of  the  house." 

Tom  writhed  internally  with  chagrin.  He'd  put 
his  foot  in  it  now,  all  right.  No  wonder  Lulie  was 
mad.  Just  patched  it  up  with  hubby  and  caught, 
apparently,  in  flagrante  delicto  at  two  in  the  morn 
ing  !  And  what  would  Wingate  do  about  it  ?  Lulie 
would  never  forgive  him — never !  Well,  what  dif 
ference  would  that  make  if  she  was  going  back 
to  her  husband?  However,  suppose  her  husband 
wouldn't  take  her  back  after  what  had  happened? 
What  would  be  his  position  in  the  matter?  A  jolly 


240       THE   WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

ass  he  had  made  of  himself!  "Sexcess"!  Bah! 
He  uttered  the  word  contemptuously  under  his 
breath  so  that  Parradym  heard  it. 

"  Exactly,"  nodded  the  philosopher,  lighting  a 
small  claro  cigar.  "A  jolly  mess  and  a  jolly  ass! 
But,  frankly,  I  regard  this  as  a  rather  lucky  inci 
dent — for  you.  Suppose,  for  example,  Lulie  and  Jim 
hadn't  just  made  up,  and  when  you  met  her  in  the 
hall  she  hadn't  been  scared  to  death  that  some  one 
would  see  you  both,  eh?  The  incident  mightn't 
have  ended  in  the  hall,  d'y'  see?" 

Tom  flushed  crimson.  The  conversation  seemed 
bordering  on  the  indelicate.  He  didn't  mind  that 
sort  of  thing  about  other  people,  but  it  was  very 
different  when  you  were  the  subject  of  it.  More 
over,  for  some  unknown  reason,  he  wanted  Parry's 
good  opinion.  He  felt  abashed  and  humiliated,  for 
he  had  certainly  done  Lulie  a  great  wrong — as  it 
had  turned  out.  He  had  not  only  insulted  the 
daughter  of  his  hostess,  but  he  had  compromised 
her  in  the  eyes  of  her  husband.  Parry's  opinion 
that  it  might  have  been  worse  was  small  consola 
tion  at  the  moment. 

"You  know  there's  an  awful  lot  of  rot  written 
and  talked  about  this  sex  business,"  said  Parradym, 
taking  a  sip  of  carbonic.  "  Don't  mind  my  men 
tioning  it,  do  you?  But,  you  see,  I've  drifted  around 
now  for  a  good  many  years — for  more  than  twice 
as  many  as  you've  existed — and  I've  used  my  eyes 
besides  talking  with  all  kinds  of  people.  Take  my 
word  for  it,  the  emphasis  on  sex  is  the  grossest  ex- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       241 

aggeration  in  human  affairs.  Use  your  common 
sense.  It  isn't  mating- time  all  the  year  round !" 

"Seems  to  be — here!"  answered  Tom. 

"A  sort  of  artificial  spring  induced  by  cham 
pagne,  French  novels,  and  risque  conversation." 

"A  sort  of  ' hothouse'?"  suggested  Tom,  reviving. 

Parradym  eyed  him  sharply. 

" You're  feeling  better!"  he  announced.  "But 
let  me  take  this  chance  to  speak  seriously.  Sup 
pose  all  the  poets  and  playwrights  and  novelists 
suddenly  began  to  sing  and  write  about  the  glories 
of  Scotch  whiskey  or  saddle  of  mutton.  We've 
drunk  whiskey  and  we've  eaten  mutton — or  our 
friends  have.  But  they  don't  dream  of  either  every 
night  or  spend  their  days  planning  to  get  them. 
Look  around.  Most  people  are  able  to  live  quiet, 
regular  lives  without  coveting  their  neighbors' 
wives.  The  sex  impulse — like  the  impulse  to  eat — 
is  a  real  one,  of  course,  but  that  it  occupies  the 
thoughts  of  most  men — or  women — the  greater 
part  of  the  time  is  a  rank  fiction.  It  isn't  as  strong 
in  the  average  person  as  the  impulse  of  a  hungry 
man  for  food.  Mind  you,  I'm  talking  about  physical 
desire.  It  doesn't  begin  to  be  as  influential  in  our 
lives  as  the  loyalty  of  a  man  to  his  wife  or  his  affec 
tion  for  his  parents,  or  his  love  of  country.  But 
the  way  they  talk  here  and  in  the  cities  you'd  be 
led  to  suppose  that  people  thought  of  nothing  else. 
It  isn't  so.  It's  largely  a  literary  fiction — which, 
unfortunately,  is  accepted  as  true  by  playgoers  and 
novel  readers. 


242       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

The  real  France  isn't  the  France  of  the  Folies 
Bergere  any  more  than  Rector's  or  the  Cafe  Martin 
is  the  real  New  York.  But  mob  psychology  is  such 
that  self-respecting  people  will  go  into  a  theatre 
and  for  the  time  being,  at  any  rate,  accept  an  en 
tirely  fictitious  standard  of  morality  as  their  own. 
You  can  go  to  a  musical  show  any  night  in  the  week 
and  find  straight-laced  old  maids  snickering  at  jokes 
that  by  daylight  would  chill  their  blood.  Staid 
old  papas  harbor  the  mad  idea  that  the  only  proper 
way  to  treat  a  chambermaid  is  to  chuck  her  under 
the  chin — until  they  try  it.  And  so  it  goes.  It  is 
the  thing  here,  for  example,  to  pretend  to  be  jaded 
and  worldly  wise.  You  may  be  a  confirmed  tee 
totaller,  but  you  must  talk  vintage  champagnes. 
You  may  be  a  bred-in-the-bone  Puritan,  but  you 
must  ape  the  amativeness  of  the  comic-opera  tenor, 
and  hint  at  imaginary  conquests.  How  many  of 
these  people  do  you  suppose  actually  experience 
any  stimulus  from  the  contiguity  of  a  member  of 
the  other  sex?  Not  one  in  twenty!  And,  if  they 
did,  how  many  decent  young  girls  or  young  fellows 
would  permit  such  thoughts  to  linger  in  their  minds  ? 
You  hear  all  kinds  of  stories  about  the  people  in 
society,  but  my  experience  is  that  very  few  of  'em 
are  true.  In  a  word,  my  son,  don't  base  your  con 
duct  on  an  artificial  theory,  an  imaginary  idea 
that  everybody  is  really  on  the  loose.  They're 
not!  Moreover,  the  majority  of  'em  wouldn't 
want  to  be,  even  if  they  could  have  the  chance. 
This  by  way  of  caution  in  case  you  might  attempt 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       243 

an  osculatory  adventure  with — shall  we  say  Mrs. 
Welfleet?" 

"God  forbid!"  groaned  Tom. 

"That's  a  good  youth!"  smiled  Parry.  "Now 
to-morrow  make  your  peace — if  you  can — with 
Mrs.  Wingate." 

"How  about  Mr.  Wingate?" 

"Hell  not  bother  you.  Indeed,  I  fancy  that  he 
almost  regards  himself  as  being  under  a  debt  of 
obligation  to  you." 

"Tome!    How?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Jim  has  never  been  able  to  get 
anything  very  definite  on  Lulie  up  to  this  time, 
and  now  you  have  come  forward  to  supply,  as  it 
were,  a  long-felt  want." 

Tom  did  not  understand. 

"How  would  you  like  to  play  the  role  of  co 
respondent  in  the  divorce  court?"  asked  Parry, 
chuckling.  "Good  night.  Pleasant  dreams!" 

Tom  gazed  somewhat  aghast  at  Parry's  retreat 
ing  coat-tails.  Could  the  old  fellow  really  have 
spoken  seriously?  Corespondent  in  a  divorce  suit? 
It  wasn't  by  any  means  impossible.  His  eyes 
reverted  to  the  statuesque  form  of  the  Grecian 
Annette  Kellerman  upon  the  wall.  And  what  had 
he  got  out  of  it?  Nothing  at  all.  He  had  forcibly 
kissed  a  lady  who  had  just  left  her  husband  after 
a  friendly  call.  He  had  incurred  her  permanent 
enmity  probably,  and  in  all  likelihood  would  have  a 
fight  on  his  hands,  besides,  with  her  stronger  if  not 
better  half.  A  good  evening's  work!  "Wingate 


244       THE   WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

versus  Wingate."  He  could  see  his  name  featured 
in  the  paper  at  the  head  of  a  column.  What  would 
his  mother  say? 

His  mother!  He  had  not  thought  of  her  for  a 
month.  What  had  made  him  think  of  her?  Had 
anything  made  him  think  of  her?  He  had  an  un 
easy  sort  of  feeling  that  something  had.  He  re 
membered  now — there  was  a  letter  from  her  lying 
unopened  on  the  side-table. 

Rather  carelessly  Tom,  with  the  gold-enamelled 
paper-cutter  slit  the  familiar  envelope.  It  was 
small  and  square,  of  cheap  paper,  bought  by  the 
pound.  On  that  polished  table  amid  the  heavy  silver 
it  looked  almost  like  a  letter  from  a  servant.  Tom 
had  always  objected  to  having  his  mother  use  such 
cheap  stationery,  but  she  had  refused  persistently 
to  buy  any  other.  The  paper  was  particularly  of 
fensive  to  him  because  of  the  crude  embossed  rep 
resentation  of  the  Boston  State  House  in  the  upper 
left-hand  corner.  Yet  the  hand  in  which  the  common 
envelope  was  addressed  was  fine  and  well  formed — 
almost  like  steel  engraving.  Tom  admitted  as  he 
looked  at  the  envelope  that  his  mother's  hand 
writing  was  certainly  very  nice. 

Her  "  penmanship"  was,  in  fact,  the  sole,  sur 
viving  remnant  of  her  polite  education  as  a  young 
lady  of  refined  antecedents  in  Chelsea.  It  was  not 
without  a  stab  of  remorse  that  Tom  opened  the 
letter.  He  was  too  honest  not  to  admit  that  he 
had  grossly  neglected  her.  But  his  mother's  very 
self-effacement,  her  extraordinary  ability  even  at 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       245 

her  somewhat  advanced  age  to  take  care  of  herself 
without  assistance,  had  blinded  him,  and  was  still 
blinding  him,  to  the  truth  of  the  situation,  which 
was  that  she  was  an  old  lady  who  ought  never  to 
have  been  permitted  to  go  off  alone,  and  who  should 
have  had  the  most  constant  and  tender  care.  But 
she  had  always  managed  to  get  along,  and  Tom 
took  it  for  granted  that  she  would  continue  to  do 
so  indefinitely.  However,  he  felt  a  little  badly, 
as  he  unfolded  her  letter,  that  he  had  not  written 
to  her. 

MACNAUGHTON  COTTAGES, 

BETHLEHEM,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 
MY  DEAR  SON: 

It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  heard  from  you,  but  I  sup 
pose  you  are  working  very  hard  getting  ready  for  the  tennis 
tournament.  [He  made  a  wry  mouth.]  I  came  up  here  over 
a  month  ago  with  Bridget,  who  went  back  next  day  to  her 
sister's  at  Nantasket.  I  have  a  very  nice  room  here  with 
good  board  for  twelve  dollars  per  week.  But  it  seems  very 
expensive  to  me.  Usually  I  have  got  very  good  accommo 
dations  for  ten  dollars,  and  at  the  Mountain  Home  House 
we  only  paid  seven  dollars.  So  I  shall  probably  go  home 
somewhat  earlier  than  I  expected,  especially  on  account  of 
having  to  pay  Bridget's  fare.  I  have  not  been  feeling  quite 
as  well  as  last  summer  and  there  is  nobody  staying  here 
that  I  know,  so  I  shall  not  mind  going  home  so  much.  I 
take  walks  and  look  at  the  mountains,  and  sometimes  in 
the  evenings  there  is  a  lecture  or  concert.  There  is  a  gentle 
man  and  lady  with  their  little  daughter  who  sit  at  my  table 
and  who  seem  quite  nice.  I  think  their  name  is  Smith. 
Now,  Tom,  do  write  to  me,  for  I  am  very  lonely  when  I  do 
not  hear  from  you.  I  miss  you  very  much.  The  older  I 
grow  the  more  I  miss  you  when  you  are  away  from  me. 


246       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

But  I  do  not  worry,  because  I  know  you  are  a  good  boy  and 
take  Christ  for  your  example.  I  hope  you  do  not  forget 
to  read  a  chapter  every  day  and  to  ask  for  His  guidance. 
God  bless  you,  Tom. 

Your  loving  mother, 

CAROLINE  MARIA  KELLY. 

Tom  closed  his  eyes  and  bit  his  lips.  The  letter 
had  been  lying  there  two  days  unopened !  Poor 
mother!  She  was  asleep  now  probably  in  a  little 
wooden  bed  in  a  tiny  hotel  bedroom,  with  a  straw 
carpet  and  rickety  wash-stand,  with  servants  tramp 
ing  around  over  her  head.  She  oughtn't  to  go 
travelling  alone  like  that.  Supposing  she  got  sick? 
As  soon  as  the  tournament  was  over  he  would  go 
up  and  stay  with  her.  But  even  as  he  made  the 
resolve  the  vision  of  the  fly-specked  ceiling  of  a 
hotel  dining-room  swam  before  his  eyes.  " Beef 
steak — codfish  and  cream — rare  or  well  done!" 
His  eye  wandered  around  the  luxurious  appoint 
ments  of  the  room  in  which  he  was  reclining,  at 
the  cigars  and  cigarettes,  the  aerated  waters,  the 
magazines,  the  silken  bed,  the  Grecian  beauty! 
Once  more  he  thought  of  Lulie  and  could  feel  her 
slender,  pliant  body  in  his  arms,  her  soft  lips  be 
neath  his  kiss.  Perhaps  she  hadn't  minded  so 
much,  after  all !  Her  struggles  had  not  been  very 
violent.  What  a  tantalizing  girl  she  was !  Al 
ready  he  had  forgotten  all  about  his  mother  in  the 
thought  of  the  other  woman. 

He  undressed  slowly  and  tumbled  into  bed,  where 
he  lay  wide-eyed  in  the  graying  light.  Suppose 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       247 

there  was  a  scandal,  where  would  that  leave  him 
with  Pauline?  The  old  Selbys  were  nothing  if  not 
respectable — were  sticklers  for  respectability.  He 
realized  suddenly  and  with  great  distinctness  that 
a  liaison  with  a  married  woman,  however  pretty, 
would  be  a  poor  substitute  for  a  marriage  with  a 
charming  millionairess  like  Pauline.  At  any  rate, 
he  should  have  made  sure  of  Pauline  first !  He 
writhed  at  the  consciousness  of  the  fool  he  had 
made  of  himself.  He  must  patch  the  thing  up  some 
how  with  Wingate — eat  crow.  He  mustn't  lose 
Pauline !  And  yet  it  was  not  of  her  but  of  Lulie 
that  he  dreamed  when  he  finally  fell  asleep. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  he  awoke  and  the  ceil 
ing  above  his  head  was  bathed  in  ripples  of  sun 
light,  so  resembling  the  dancing  catoptric  globules 
which  he  had  watched  from  his  crib  as  a  child  that 
unconsciously  his  eyes  sought  as  well  for  the  steel  en 
graving  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  and  the  worsted 
motto  of  "Look  unto  me  and  be  ye  saved "  that 
had  hung  upon  the  walls  of  his  mother's  bedroom 
in  Newbury  Street.  Had  he  dreamed  that  he  had 
grown  up  and  gone  to  college  and  visited  at  a  place 
called  Newport?  Was  he  still  only  a  little  boy 
eating  out  of  a  paper  bag  Aunt  Eliza's  pumpkin- 
seeds?  The  mist  of  the  years  clouded  his  mental 
vision.  There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  actual  un 
certainty,  and  then  the  Grecian  lady  swam  into  his 
ken  and  usurped  the  place  of  the  Madonna,  while 
the  invocation  to  be  saved  dissolved  entirely  like 
the  Cheshire  cat  in  "Alice  in  Wonderland."  Yes, 


248       THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

this  was  Newport !  Nobody  wanted  to  be  saved 
in  Newport !  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  yawned. 

From  without  came  the  song  of  robins,  the  cool 
touch  of  the  ocean.  He  stalked  to  the  open  win 
dow,  stretching  himself  luxuriously.  The  rest  of  the 
world  was  awake  and  about  its  piffling  business !  It 
was  pretty  comfortable  to  be  a  guest.  Old  Parry  had 
a  long  head,  after  all !  No  responsibility — no  ex 
pense — no  anxiety.  It  was  good  to  be  young !  To 
be  liked — to  like !  To  hold  a  beautiful  girl  in  your 
arms !  There  was  the  very  spot  he  had  first  seen  her 
less  than  a  month  ago — there  on  the  bench  in  the 
rose-garden.  Something  on  the  bench  caught  his  eye 
—a  closed  book  placed  there  with  ostentatious  neg 
lect.  A  delicious  wave  of  excitement  engulfed  him. 
This  might  be  her  method  of  communicating  with 
him.  He  hurried  into  his  clothes,  thrusting  head 
long  from  his  mind  every  cautionary  consideration. 
His  remorse,  his  humiliation,  his  resolutions  for  the 
future,  all  vanished  like  the  motto  on  the  wall. 

A  few  moments  and  his  feet  were  sinking  de- 
liciously  into  the  soft  turf  of  the  rose-garden,  as 
he  sauntered,  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  care 
lessly  toward  the  bench,  and  with  an  eye  roving  for 
peepers,  seated  himself  upon  it.  Then  he  dropped 
his  hand  over  the  book  and  twisted  it  around  so 
that  he  could  read  the  title,  "The  Greatest  Thing 
in  the  World ! "  His  heart  thumped.  He  knew 
what  that  was— "Love"!  What  a  little  devil  she 
was !  To  think  of  anything  like  that !  He  turned 
back  the  cover.  Her  initials  were  there  in  pencil — 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       249 

"L.  S.  W." — nothing  else — yes,  what  was  that 
scrawl  at  the  bottom — "page  137  "?  Smiling,  Tom 
turned  expectantly  to  the  designated  page.  A 
single  phrase  in  a  conversation  had  been  lightly 
underlined — " to-night  at  twelve."  Clever!  There 
in  the  rose-garden,  of  course,  a  place  convenient  for 
him.  Then  she  hadn't  minded.  She  was  in  love 
with  him !  She  herself  was  seeking  a  rendezvous ! 
Could  he  wait  twelve  hours  before  again  holding 
her  in  his  arms  ? 

He  impatiently  recalled  the  fact  that  he  had  ac 
cepted  an  invitation  to  join  the  Selbys  on  their 
yacht  that  afternoon.  What  a  bore !  What  was 
the  prosaic  Pauline  compared  to  this  dark-eyed 
daughter  of  the  night?  As  bread  to  caviare;  as 
milk  to  spiced  wine !  Away  with  dull  respectability 
— away  with  Mrs.  Grundy — let  youth  and  love 
have  their  fling!  Yet  at  the  very  height  of  his 
spasm  of  exaltation  Tom  carefully  scrutinized  the 
fly-leaf  to  determine  whether  or  not  it  had  ever 
before  been  used  for  the  same  purpose,  and  satis 
fied  himself  sufficiently  that  it  had  not. 

That  Tom  should  see  neither  his  host  nor  hostess 
for  an  entire  day  or  even  for  several  days  was  noth 
ing  unusual.  And  on  this  particular  day,  had  he 
not  already  made  engagements  for  lunch  and  dinner, 
he  would  undoubtedly  have  done  so  rather  than 
face  an  embarrassing  situation  consequent  upon  a 
disclosure  of  his  escapade  with  Lulie.  He  had 
thought  seriously  of  terminating  his  visit,  yet  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  surrender  the  comforts 


250      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

of  his  present  accommodations  without  strong 
reason.  Accordingly,  he  determined  to  find  out  how 
the  land  lay  from  Lulie  before  doing  anything.  He 
had  an  irritatingly  peaceful  afternoon  on  the  yacht, 
during  which  Pauline  made  it  more  evident  than 
ever  that  she  regarded  herself  as  having  a  lien  upon 
him  and  gave  him  several  opportunities  for  making 
love  to  her,  which  he  embraced  but  half-heartedly. 
How  different  she  was  from  Lulie — or  even  Evelyn. 
Why,  the  girl  was  all  ready  to  throw  herself  at  his 
head  after  an  acquaintance  of  only  three  weeks ! 
Pa  Selby,  too,  had  shown  a  rising  interest  in  Tom's 
future  and  seemed  disappointed  that  his  plans 
were  so  unformulated. 

"What  you  want  to  do,  my  young  feller,"  he 
told  him  confidentially  over  the  taffrail,  "is  to  get 
close  to  money.  Get  as  close  as  you  can  to  it,  and 
stick  there!  Money  makes  money.  Stands  to 
reason.  One  feller  buys  and  sells  cucumbers.  Well, 
he  makes  a  cucumber  profit — thirty  per  cent,  may 
be,  on  a  thousand  crates  of  'em.  What  does  it 
amount  to — a  few  dollars,  and  it  takes  him  just 
as  long  and  as  much  hard  work  as  if  he  was  buy 
ing  and  selling  gold.  Now,  if  you  deal  in  money, 
you  make  a  money  profit.  You  get  me?  Suppose 
instead  of  a  crate  of  cucumbers,  worth  three  dollars, 
you  trade  in  a  block  of  bonds  worth  a  million 
dollars.  Very  likely  you  don't  make  as  big  a  per 
cent  profit,  but  you  make  a  quick  turnover  and  you 
figure  that  profit  on  a  million  dollars  instead  of  a 
few  thousand." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       251 

"But  where  do  I  get  the  money  to  buy  the 
bonds?"  inquired  Tom,  sincerely  interested. 

'Stand  in  with  the  big  fellows,"  answered  Selby. 
"Go  in  on  their  deals.  It's  as  easy  for  a  good- 
lookin'  young  chap  to  get  next  to  millionaires  as 
it  is  to  farmers  or  dry-goods  men.  But  the  great 
thing  is  to  keep  close  to  money,  and  folks  that 
have  it,  all  the  time.  Seize  your  opportunities  and 
never  let  go.  It's  as  easy  to  make  twenty-five 
thousand  a  year  as  twenty-five  hundred." 

"Well,  just  show  me  how,  will  you?"  pleaded 
Tom,  with  a  laugh. 

"Sure,  I  will!"  retorted  his  host.  "Now,  if  you 
ain't  got  any  other  plan,  why  don't  you  start  in  as 
a  stock-broker?  I  trade  a  good  deal  and  I'll  give 
you  my  business  and  speak  a  good  word  for  you  to 
my  friends.  Every  hundred  shares  you  sell  you  get 
twelve  dollars  and  a  half.  That  makes  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars  on  every  thousand,  don't 
it?  Well,  sometimes  I  trade  as  high  as  ten  thou 
sand  shares  a  day." 

Tom  mentally  calculated  that  if  his  genial  friend 
not  only  bought,  but  also  sold,  ten  thousand  shares 
of  stock  in  one  day  he,  Tom,  could  make  two  thou 
sand  five  hundred  dollars  by  doing  nothing  save 
execute  the  order. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "I  should  think  that  would 
be  a  very  pleasant  business.  I'll  talk  to  you  again 
about  it." 

"My  business  alone  would  be  worth  twenty- 
five  thousand  a  year  to  you,"  Selby  assured  him. 


252       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"And  it's  yours — if  you  want  it.  Just  say  the 
word !  I've  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you,  my  lad. 
You're  the  kind  of  young  feller  I  like.  I'm  not  the 
only  one — either!"  he  added  with  a  saurian  wink. 

The  moon  had  risen  high  over  the  trees  about 
"Beausejour"  when  Tom  left  the  dance  which  had 
followed  his  dinner-party,  and  stole  cautiously  to 
the  silver-flooded  rose-garden.  The  night  breeze 
was  so  light  that  hardly  a  leaf  stirred  and  the  flowers 
stood  motionless  upon  their  stalks. 

Out  of  the  shadow  of  the  high  hedge  the  white 
marble  of  the  garden-seat  peered  like  a  sheeted 
ghost.  The  night  was  so  still  that  he  could  plainly 
hear  the  distant  waves  upon  the  rocks  and  the 
muted  strains  of  the  waltz  from  the  mansion  he 
had  just  left.  Each  individual  grass  blade  at  his 
feet  was  clearly  visible.  The  night  was  somehow 
subdued,  toned  down,  and  yet  the  constituent  ele 
ments  in  the  scene  had  a  sharper  quality  even  than 
by  day.  His  hand,  for  instance,  as  he  lit  his  cigarette, 
was  a  brilliant  marble  hand.  It  was  the  flame  of 
the  match  that  seemed  pale — glowing  like  the  ghost 
of  the  Royal  Dane.  He  sat  down  on  the  warm  stone. 
What  would  Lulie  say  to  him?  What  did  this 
meeting  portend?  He  had  dreamed  of  yachting 
amid  the  Ionian  Isles  with  Pauline,  why  not  with 
Lulie  ?  How  much  more  attractive  the  idea !  Lulie 
had  infinitely  more  beauty,  more  cleverness,  more 
chic,  more  money.  If  a  fellow  was  going  to  cut 
loose  from  conventionality,  why  not  get  something 
for  it?  The  Scott  money  was  as  good  as  the  Selbys'. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       253 

That  she  was  a  married  woman — a  fact  that  had 
at  first  somewhat  disturbed  him — could  be  easily 
remedied  at  Reno  or  somewhere.  They  could  steal 
aboard  a  steamer  that  very  night,  free  to  voyage 
to  distant,  palm-fringed  lands,  to  loiter  in  foreign 
cities,  to  wander  hand  in  hand  over  the  wide  world, 
to  be  wafted  in  a — what  was  it? — in  a  dahabeah  up 
the  Nile,  he  playing  Mark  Antony  to  her  Cleopatra 
on  moonlit  nights  such  as  this,  gazing  from  the  deck 
over  silver  sands  that  lost  themselves  in  the  stars. 

There  was  a  faint  rustle  along  the  hedges  and 
his  heart  leaped  in  tumult  as  Lulie,  a  filmy  wrap 
thrown  across  her  sloping  shoulders,  glided  silently 
into  the  enchanted  circle  of  the  rose-garden. 

" Lulie!"  he  whispered,  rising  to  his  feet  and 
tossing  away  his  cigarette. 

She  did  not  answer  him  but  glanced  swiftly  about 
the  garden,  and  then  motioned  with  her  hand  toward 
the  seat.  He  could  not  distinguish  the  expression 
on  her  face,  but  she  seemed  quite  self-possessed  in 
spite  of  her  evident  caution.  Clearly,  she  was  not 
agitated,  and  yet  he  did  not  fear  her  wrath.  Why 
had  she  come  to  him?  He  was  trembling  as  she 
sank  down  beside  him  upon  the  marble  bench. 

"Oh,  Torn!"  she  said  quickly,  turning  a  sad, 
reproachful  face  toward  his.  "Oh,  you  foolish, 
reckless  boy!" 

"I  was  crazy!"  he  answered.  "I  don't  know 
how  I  came  to  do  it.  But  you  were — you  are  so 
lovely!" 

She  gave  a  low  laugh. 


254      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"What  possessed  you  to  do  such  a  thing  before 
him — then — there  ? "  she  asked.  She  had  let  her 
head  fall  slightly  forward,  and  the  moonlight,  steal 
ing  through  the  hedge,  fell  upon  the  delicate  curve 
of  her  white  neck  just  below  her  flat  little  ear.  He 
had  stopped  trembling.  A  new  and  fateful  courage 
had  come  over  him.  She  had  sought  him  volun 
tarily;  she  was  not  angry  with  him;  she  only 
quarrelled  with  the  time  and  place  of  his  enforced 
caress. 

Putting  his  arm  around  her  without  opposition, 
he  bent  over  and  kissed  her  where  the  moonlight 
fell. 

"It's  done  now!"  he  said.  "Oh,  Lulie!  I  do 
love  you!" 


XX 


THE  expectant  storm  at  "Beausejour"  did  not, 
for  unknown  reasons,  eventuate.  For  several  days 
Tom  lived  in  momentary  anticipation  of  a  collision 
with  Wingate.  Not  that  he  cared  particularly  so 
far  as  he  himself  or  even  Lulie  was  concerned,  yet 
he  naturally  disliked  the  idea  of  being  the  cause  of 
a  scandal  in  a  house  where  he  was  a  visitor.  But 
Wingate  vanished  as  suddenly  as  he  had  made  his 
appearance — as  suddenly  as  his  curious  reconcilia 
tion  with  Lulie  had  been  rendered  abortive.  No 
one,  not  even  Allyn,  commented  upon  his  depar 
ture.  He  apparently  was  neither  wanted  nor  missed. 
On  the  other  hand,  Tom  thought,  or  perhaps 
imagined,  that  he  observed  a  certain  added  stiff 
ness  in  his  hostess's  manner,  and  a  less  hearty  ap 
preciation  of  his  jokes  and  conversation  on  the  part 
of  her  husband.  The  excitement  of  the  double 
game  he  was  now  playing,  however,  enabled  him 
to  dismiss  this  aspect  of  the  matter  from  his  mind. 
It  was  "all  in  his  eye,"  he  concluded.  Even  if 
Wingate  had  "put  up  a  holler"  about  Lulie  to  Mrs. 
Scott,  they  would  naturally  discount  anything  he 
might  say.  It  was  most  unlikely  that  they  would 
believe  either  the  truth  or  any  variation  upon  it 
that  a  jealous  husband  might  elaborate. 

255 


256       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY 

Other  considerations  made  him  less  easy.  One 
of  these  was  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  borrow 
money  several  times  from  Allyn.  While  he  fully 
expected  to  be  able  to  repay  it,  the  fact  that  his 
mother  was  cutting  short  her  vacation  for  lack  of 
funds  made  him  feel  more  or  less  like  a  criminal. 
He  justified  his  own  luxury  and  idleness  as  com 
pared  with  her  shabby  surroundings  and  meagre 
comforts  by  the  always  flimsy  and  now  threadbare 
excuse  that  his  present  mode  of  life  and  companions 
offered  an  opportunity  for  future  success  whereby 
both  his  mother  and  himself  would  greatly  profit. 
If  he  married  an  heiress,  and  he  could  do  so  as  easily 
as  he  could  snap  his  finger,  would  not  it  mean  luxury 
to  her  for  the  rest  of  her  days  ?  Of  course  it  would, 
he  assured  himself.  And  yet  he  knew  in  his  heart 
that  if  he  did  anything  of  the  kind,  not  one  cent  of 
any  such  blood-money  would  she  accept  or  touch. 

Yet  as  he  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  his  af 
fair  with  Lulie  he  managed  to  smother  the  thought 
of  his  mother.  She  would  be  all  right.  He'd  play 
out  his  game  at  Newport  while  he  had  the  chance, 
and  go  back  home  with  a  pot  of  money !  He'd 
send  home  a  pot  of  money,  anyhow,  even  if  he  didn't 
go  himself.  He  couldn't  help  it.  The  choice  had 
narrowed  down,  he  told  himself,  to  either  Pauline 
or  Lulie.  There  was  more  tang  to  Lulie,  but  she 
might  not  want  to  marry  him;  and  maybe — horrid 
thought! — her  money  was  in  trust.  Pauline  was 
safer,  much  safer  for  a  lot  of  reasons,  and  yet  he 
couldn't  get  up  much  excitement  about  being  owned 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       257 

by  Pauline.  At  times  even  the  vision  of  yachting 
with  her  amid  the  Ionian  Isles  was  marred  by  the 
suspicion  that  she  would  certainly  insist  on  being 
the  one  to  select  the  precise  islands  amid  which 
they  were  to  yacht.  She  would  "run"  him  just 
as  she  ran  father.  He  would  be  nothing  more  than 
a  highly  salaried  companion,  a  sort  of  royal  consort, 
an  American  Prince  Albert  without  a  memorial. 
There  was  something  mid- Victorian  about  Pauline ! 
She  had  all  the  solid  British  virtues;  the  regard 
for  property;  the  horror  of  the  unconventional. 
If  she  had  regarded  it  as  proper  and  young  lady 
like  to  use  the  term,  she  would  doubtless  have  stig 
matized  Lulie  Wingate  as  a  "scarlet  woman."  She 
often  referred  to  her  in  terms  which  left  no  doubt 
as  to  her  meaning,  although  she  had  not  the  slightest 
inkling  of  Tom's  interest  in  her.  In  fact,  she  was 
complaisant  in  her  conviction  that  Tom  was  hers  and 
hers  alone. 

Thus  Mr.  Kelly  found  himself  in  the  delicate, 
if  not  embarrassing,  position  of  being  obliged  to 
make  passionate  love  to  one  lady  in  order  to  keep 
her  interest,  and  to  temper  his  attentions  to  an 
other  lest  he  be  snapped  up  too  quickly,  while 
yet  evincing  enough  devotion  to  hold  the  field 
against  all  comers.  It  must  be  admitted  that  in 
spite  of  his  inexperience  he  did  both  of  these  things 
to  a  nicety.  Youth  quickly  learns  to  love  gener- 
ically.  In  truth,  that  wise  observer  Allyn,  who 
watched  our  young  rake's  progress  with  amused 
tolerance,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  if  opportunity 


258      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

offered,  it  was  not  impossible  that  his  visitor  might 
take  on  still  another  affair — with  a  widow,  this 
time,  perhaps — which  prophecy  came  true  in  a 
measure  in  a  totally  unexpected  manner. 

It  was  after  a  very  noisy  lunch-party  at  the 
Scotts,  on  one  of  the  succeeding  Sundays,  that 
Tom  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  lady  who  was  to 
play  a  prominent  part  in  his  subsequent  career. 
He  had  not  noticed  her  particularly  at  the  table, 
being  engrossed  on  either  side  with  the  customary 
debutante,  but  when  the  men,  after  a  few  mo 
ments  in  Mr.  Scott's  smoking  "den" — an  elegant 
apartment  finished  in  quartered  oak  and  hung  with 
old  English  masters — rejoined  the  ladies  in  the  gar 
den,  he  observed  a  stout,  white-haired  woman, 
with  a  leathery  complexion,  sitting  on  the  terrace 
surrounded  by  a  group  which  seemed  to  be  listening 
with  the  utmost  deference  to  what  she  had  to  say. 

"Who's  that  old  party?"  he  asked  of  Allyn. 

"That's  Mrs.  Rutherford  Jones,"  answered  his 
friend,  "otherwise  known  as  the  ' duchess.'  You've 
heard  of  her,  of  course?  Well,  she's  the  whole 
thing  here.  Eccentric  as  a  March  hare,  but  a  good 
sort,  all  the  same.  Be  sure  and  don't  offend  her, 
whatever  you  do ! " 

Tom  noticed  Lulie  Wingate,  Pauline  Selby,  Par- 
radym,  and  Pennington  among  those  standing 
about  Mrs.  Jones,  with  several  others  of  the  younger 
members  of  the  party. 

"She  likes  young  people,"  said  Allyn,  lowering 
his  tone.  "And  her  wish  is  a  command." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       259 

As  they  crossed  the  terrace  Tom  heard  a  shrill 
voice  suddenly  exclaim  in  a  dictatorial  tone: 

"Who  is  that  handsome  young  man?  Bring 
him  to  me  at  once ! " 

"There  she  blows!"  whispered  Allyn.  "She's 
sighted  you !  We  must  go  and  make  obeisance. " 
And  he  led  Tom  toward  Mrs.  Jones  while  the  others 
made  way  for  them. 

"My  dear  duchess!"  began  Allyn,  making  a 
sweeping  bow  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  heart, 
"allow  me  to  present  one  of  your  most  ardent  ad 
mirers — Mr.  Thomas  Kelly." 

The  duchess  nodded  briskly  at  Tom  and  gave 
him  her  hand. 

"Well,  young  man,"  she  cried,  "what  are  you 
doing  here  in  this  modern  Babylon?  Oh,  tennis? 
There's  no  harm  in  that;  on  the  contrary,  I  like 
athletic  young  men — when  they  are  not  utterly 
stupid.  But  you  do  not  look  stupid  at  all.  I  am 
sure  you  are  quite  clever.  Only  you  must  not  be 
too  clever — like  Parradym  here!  It  would  be  a 
catastrophe  to  have  two  Parradyms !  One  is  enough. 
We  keep  him  around  as  a  sort  of  buffer — to  ward 
off  evil  spirits  in  the  shape  of  people  with  brains. 
If  one  of  those  awful  intellectual  people  is  coming 
to  dinner  I  send  for  Parry  and  say:  ' Parry,  what 
will  stump  this  professor?'  And  he  writes  some 
thing  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  I  put  it  in  my  lap, 
and  when  the  soup  is  passed  I  look  at  the  poor 
professor  and  say  sternly:  'What  do  you  think 
about  the  Iconoclastic  Schism?'  And  that  is  the 


260      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

end  of  the  professor.  Eh,  Parry,  you  wicked  old 
man?" 

And  she  shook  a  tortoise-shell  lorgnette  at  Par- 
radym,  who  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"I  commend  Mr.  Kelly  to  your  good  graces," 
he  said.  "You  will  find  him  anxious  to  please, 
sober,  truthful,  orthodox,  and  polite." 

"An  excellent  recommendation !"  replied  the  duch 
ess.  "I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  my  butler. 
But  if  I  could,  he  wouldn't  be  my  butler,  would 
he?  He'd  be  Archbishop  of  Canterbury — except 
for  his  orthodoxy.  I  understand  it  is  no  longer 
smart  to  be  orthodox.  If  one  is  to  be  chic,  one  must 
be  a  sceptic — at  least,  in  private.  Now,  Mr.  Kelly, 
what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?  Do  you  know 
perchance  what  the  ' Iconoclastic  Schism'  was?" 

Poor  Tom  wished  he  could  sink  through  the 
grass.  He  glanced  helplessly  around  the  circle  of 
amused  faces.  They  had  all  suffered  this  sort  of 
baiting  themselves,  and  knew  how  he  felt.  By  a 
peculiar  coincidence,  however,  he  did  remember 
the  " Iconoclastic  Schism"  for  the  reason  that  the 
name  had  been  bandied  about  as  a  sort  of  joke 
among  the  boys  during  his  Freshman  year. 

"It  was  the  row  between  the  Pope  and  the  Isau- 
rian  Emperor  Leo,  who  wanted  to  smash  all  the 
images,  wasn't  it?"  he  inquired. 

Mrs.  Jones  emitted  a  cackle  of  delight  while  the 
others  gave  unmistakable  evidence  of  astonish 
ment  at  Tom's  extraordinary  learning. 

"Just  hear  the  lad!"  she  cried.     "  'Out  of  the 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       261 

mouths  of  babes — '  Parradym,  you  must  look  to 
your  laurels !  This  young  person  is  an  Admirable 
Creighton — nothing  less!  I've  got  a  painter-fellow 
who's  been  acting  as  my  Grand  Vizier,  but  I'm 
tired  of  him.  He  makes  it  his  business  to  find  out 
all  the  horrible  traits  that  people  have,  and  then 
paint  them  into  his  pictures.  He's  painting  me  now. 
Everybody  knows  that  I  am  a  sweet,  retiring,  modest, 
religious,  gentle  old  lady,  and  to  look  at  my  por 
trait  you  would  say  I  was  a  sort  of  female  Machia- 
velli !  No !  I  am  through  with  Berkman !  But 
on  with  Kelly!  Sir  Tom,  are  you  enough  of  an 
opportunist  to  come  for  a  ride  with  me.  You  are  so 
clever  and  young  and  fresh-looking  that,  unless  I 
get  you  first,  one  of  these  designing  young  women 
will  grab  you  and  take  you  away." 

The  duchess  arose  and  the  crowd  broke  up.  It 
was  evident  to  Tom  that  he  was  expected  to  sur 
render  himself  to  Mrs.  Jones — whether  he  wanted 
to  do  so  or  not.  He  had  planned  to  ask  Pauline  to 
go  canoeing  with  him,  but  he  dared  not  antagonize 
this  powerful  old  lady.  Therefore,  with  the  best 
grace  that  he  could,  he  helped  her  into  her  victoria, 
and  they  started  off. 

They  were  no  sooner  on  the  way  than  her  brusque 
autocratic  manner  gave  place  to  one  of  kindness. 
It  was  clear  that  she  really  liked  young  people — 
particularly  young  men — and  wanted  to  be  nice 
to  him.  Tom  was  pleased  and  flattered  at  such 
attention  from  an  older  woman,  particularly  one 
of  such  distinction.  Presently  he  was  telling  her 


262       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

all  about  his  first  years  at  college,  his  eventual  suc 
cess  due  to  the  fortuitous  discovery  of  the  "egg," 
and  his  present  social  and  athletic  ambitions.  After 
an  hour's  run  she  dropped  him  at  the  Scotts,  hav 
ing  first  extracted  from  him  a  promise  to  lunch  with 
her  the  following  day. 

"What  an  extraordinary  old  girl!"  he  remarked 
to  Allyn  as  they  with  Parradym  were  smoking  a 
last  cigar  together  before  going  to  bed  that  night. 
"She  made  herself  most  agreeable.  I  think  she's 
taken  quite  a  fancy  to  me." 

Allyn  nodded  grimly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "she  has  a  way  of  gobbling  people 
up  like  that — swallowing  them  whole.  She  likes 
you,  yes.  I  don't  wish  to  derogate  from  the  im 
pression  you  may  have  created  on  her  susceptible 
old  heart.  But  she's  fickle — always  was.  She's 
been  married  three  times!  Divorced  the  other 
two,  and  poor  old  Jones  died — couldn't  stand  the 
pace,  I  guess.  Rich  as  mud.  Entertains  all  the 
time,  you  know — swellest  kind  of  parties — all  the 
royalties.  Hence  her  title — 'duchess.' 

"She  may  be  fickle,  but  she's  a  good  old  soul,  all 
the  same.  You  said  so  yourself  to-day  after  lunch. 
I  like  her,"  answered  Tom  stoutly. 

"We  aU  like  her!"  agreed  Parradym.  "You 
can't  help  liking  a  woman  of  her  energy,  executive 
ability,  and  superficial  good  nature.  Of  course 
she's  arrogant  and  dictatorial,  but  somebody's  got 
to  rule  the  roost,  and  she's  got  the  time  and  the 
money.  She  might  as  well  as  anybody  else.  Only 
don't  let  her  turn  your  head." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       263 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  Tom  in  a  superior 
fashion. 

She'd  given  it  to  old  Parradym  rather  hard  that 
afternoon.  No  wonder  he  felt  sore. 

"Well,"  answered  Parradym.  "Of  course  you've 
made  a  hit  with  her.  But  you're  not  the  first — nor 
will  you  be  the  last.  She  wants  something  of  you, 
and  when  she's  had  it  she'll — throw  you  over, 
chuck  you  out,  just  as  she  has  the  others." 

"Don't  you  think  her  capable  of  an  unselfish 
friendship?"  demanded  Tom. 

"Capable  of  it,  perhaps,"  retorted  Parradym, 
"but  unless  it  is  love  at  first  sight,  which  you'll 
admit  isn't  probable,  it's  hardly  likely  that  her 
pla tonic  regard  is  entirely  altruistic.  I'm  a  fairly 
old  man.  I've  seen  a  whole  lot  of  this  sort  of  thing, 
and  I  tell  you  these  old  women  are  after  some 
thing." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  then?"  snapped  Tom. 

"Your  youth!"  replied  Parradym  with  sudden 
bitterness.  "They'll  hang  on  to  you,  and  sap  your 
vitality  just  as  a  weasel  sucks  an  egg.  It  isn't  only 
the  young  women,  like  the  one  in  the  picture  that 
goes  with  Kipling's  poem,  but  the  old  ones  as  well 
that  are  the  vampires.  These  withered  old  crones 
want  young  people  that  are  fresh  and  vigorous  about 
them.  They  want  their  blood,  and  they'll  pay  any 
price  to  get  it." 

"By  George!"  cried  Tom  indignantly,  but  more 
on  his  own  account  than  on  that  of  the  duchess. 
"I  really  don't  think  you  ought  to  speak  about  peo 
ple  in  such  a  way.  It's — it's  almost — disgusting!" 


264       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Of  course  it  is,  my  dear  fellow,"  agreed  Parry. 
"But  lots  of  life  is  disgusting.  Forewarned  is  fore 
armed." 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  it!"  growled  Tom.  "You 
fellows  don't  see  any  good  in  anybody ! — I'm  going 
to  bed!" 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  note  of  defiance  he  dreamed 
that  night  that  he  was  lying  bound  upon  a  couch 
half-covered  by  a  sheet,  and  that  old  Mrs.  Ruther 
ford  Jones  sat  cross-legged  somewhere  above  and 
sucked  his  blood  through  a  pair  of  lorgnettes,  while 
she  gibbered: 

"Even  as  you  and  I !    Even  as  you  and  I !" 


XXI 

FOR  some  reason  which  Tom  could  not  fully 
understand  the  two  weeks  allotted  by  him  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  into  physical  trim  for  the  tennis 
tournament  were  not  productive  of  the  expected 
results.  He  practised  daily  on  various  private 
courts  or  on  the  grounds  of  the  Casino,  studiously 
avoided  alcohol  and  tobacco,  and  endeavored  so 
far  as  possible  to  be  in  bed  by  eleven  o'clock.  But 
in  spite  of  his  efforts  some  influence  which  he  was 
unable  to  define  had  affected  the  accuracy  of  his 
vision  and  the  certainty  of  his  stroke.  While  he 
felt  in  perfect  physical  health,  the  "pink  of  con 
dition"  in  fact,  his  sleep  was  fitful  and  his  appetite 
did  not  respond  to  the  menu  of  elaborate  simplicity 
which  Mrs.  Scott  had  ordered  her  chef  to  prepare 
for  him. 

There  was  something  in  the  air — what,  he  could 
not  make  out — which  deprived  his  play  of  its  snap 
and  brilliance  of  the  year  before.  The  expostula 
tions  of  Allyn  and  the  milder  protests  of  Parradym 
had  made  him  self-conscious,  and  whereas  thereto 
fore  he  had  not  thought  at  all  about  where  he  should 
hit  the  ball,  he  now  kept  wondering  whether  he 
was  hitting  it  in  the  right  place.  He  could  serve 
the  "egg,"  but  he  could  not  serve  it  with  the  same 

265 


266      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

accuracy,  and  the  fact  that  he  perceived  other 
players  lounging  on  the  benches  and  about  the 
grounds  studying  his  service  made  him  nervous. 

One  lank  youth  with  yellow  hair  from  Leland 
Stanford  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  as  a  coming 
"Western  Wonder,"  and  more  than  once  he  had 
caught  the  fellow  at  a  distance  watching  his  de 
livery  and  apparently  taking  note  of  the  effect  of 
each  cut  upon  the  service.  Beyond  the  fact  that 
the  name  of  the  unknown  was  Calkins,  Tom  knew 
nothing  of  him;  but  he  conceived  a  pronounced 
distaste  for  his  tousled  yellow  "mop,"  his  bob- 
tailed  blue  coat,  and  his  extremely  high-water 
duck  trousers.  For  some  peculiar  reason  Calkins 
made  Tom  think  of  his  own  earlier  self.  He  had 
worn  just  such  a  bobtailed  coat  and  just  such 
trousers.  Now  he  rode  to  the  Casino  in  the  Scott 
brougham,  and  was  assisted  out  by  the  Scott  foot 
man,  who  handed  him  his  silver-mounted  racket- 
cases  as  if  he  were  serving  royalty,  and  indeed  Tom, 
clad  in  his  immaculate  white  polo-coat,  his  care 
fully  pressed  flannels,  and  his  silk  shirt  with  its  open 
rolling  collar,  and  its  full  sleeves  buttoned  tight 
around  his  wrists,  looked  not  unlike  a  young  noble 
man  just  up  from  Oxford  at  an  English  house-party. 

As  the  day  for  the  drawing  drew  nearer,  Tom 
became  more  and  more  anxious  about  himself. 
He  didn't  seem  acclimated  to  the  air  of  Newport. 
He  was  in  a  constant  state  of  excitement,  physical 
and  mental.  Yet  outwardly  he  gave  no  indication 
of  his  condition,  and  his  friends  continued  to  ac- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       267 

claim  him  vociferously  as  the  coming  champion, 
or  at  least  the  "  runner-up,"  and  professed  that  he 
would  walk  triumphantly  through  the  preliminaries 
to  the  semifinals.  Tom  himself  felt  strange  mis 
givings.  He  knew  that  the  virtue  had  gone  out 
of  him  somehow.  Something  told  him  that  through 
the  "egg"  alone  could  he  hope  to  win.  Yet,  after 
all,  he  knew  in  his  heart  that  the  "egg"  was  noth 
ing  but  a  trick.  He  had  made  a  practice  of  getting 
up  for  an  early  morning  walk,  in  which  Parradym 
frequently  joined  him,  and  on  several  occasions, 
out  by  the  golf-links,  they  had  passed  Calkins 
jogging  along  without  his  coat  on  a  three  or  four 
mile  sprint,  warming  himself  up  for  the  day's  work. 

"There's  a  fellow  that  means  business,"  said 
Parradym.  "They  tell  me  he  has  had  to  work  his 
way  through  college  by  tutoring  in  the  summer." 

"He  looks  like  a  ' ruffled  grouse/"  growled  Tom. 
"I  guess  he's  a  close  student  of  the  game,  though. 
Hope  I  don't  draw  him  in  the  preliminaries ! " 

Tom  did  not  draw  Calkins  in  the  preliminary 
round,  but  found  himself  pitted  against  mediocre 
players  who  had  entered  the  tournament  more  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing  than  for  anything  else,  and 
these  he  defeated  generally  without  evoking  the 
genie  hidden  in  his  marvellous  "egg"  serve.  Once, 
however,  when  severely  pushed  by  an  old  war- 
horse  at  the  game,  he  was  forced  to  use  it  and  easily 
won  a  final  love  set.  His  victory  was  greeted  with 
enthusiastic  applause  from  the  spectators,  but  it 
was  marred  for  Tom  by  the  sight  of  Calkins  loafing 


268       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

in  a  soiled  cap  at  the  far  end  of  the  benches,  a  point 
of  excellent  vantage  for  watching  either  the  de 
livery  of  a  service  or  its  return. 

He  won  his  first  four  matches,  had  an  accession 
of  confidence,  regained  something  of  his  old  snap, 
and  then  found  that  he  was  to  play  against  Calkins 
in  the  fourth  series  before  the  semifinals.  In  some 
inexplicable  way  it  had  become  generally  known, 
although  none  had  seen  Calkins  play,  that  Tom 
was  likely  to  meet  a  worthy  antagonist  in  the  Cali- 
fornian,  and  on  the  morning  of  their  match  Tom 
found  a  large  gallery  assembled  at  the  Casino.  The 
Scotts  and  Welfleets  were  all  there,  as  well  as  the 
Selbys,  and  most  of  his  college  friends  were  gathered 
in  the  front  row.  Pauline  and  Lulie  both  threw 
him  glances  of  encouragement  as  he  tossed  away 
his  polo-coat,  and  shook  hands  with  the  awkward 
boy  in  the  high-water  trousers. 

Calkins  won  the  toss,  and  took  the  serve  and 
the  first  game  by  a  terrific  smashing  service  end 
ing  in  a  long  low  shoot,  the  force  of  which  almost 
knocked  Tom's  racket  from  his  hand.  Tom,  hold 
ing  the  "egg"  in  reserve,  tried  a  similar  serve  on 
the  Leland  Stanford  man,  and  a  hot  battle  ensued, 
both  fighting  for  possession  of  the  net,  from  which 
Tom  was  finally  driven  through  the  apparently 
miraculous  ability  of  his  opponent  to  lob.  The 
games  now  stood  two-love  in  favor  of  the  Westerner. 
Again  Tom  lost.  Three-love ! 

By  this  time  the  crowds  were  deserting  the  other 
matches  to  see  the  two  college  champions  play 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       269 

against  each  other.  Tom  knew  that  the  time  had 
come,  if  it  ever  was  coming,  for  him  to  disclose 
the  famous  service  which  his  friends  fondly  believed 
would  make  him  the  national  champion. 

Stepping  swiftly  up  to  the  back  of  the  line  he 
tossed  the  ball  in  the  air,  and  cut  it  sharply  with 
a  terrific  left-hand  stroke.  The  ball  whirred  over 
the  net,  struck,  as  he  had  intended,  in  the  right-hand 
corner  of  the  service  court,  and  bounded  sharply, 
almost  at  a  right  angle,  to  the  left,  while  Calkins 
waved  at  it  vainly  on  the  right.  A  titter  went  up 
from  the  audience  which  broke  into  a  laugh  as  Cal 
kins  made  a  humorous  grimace  in  the  direction  of 
the  retreating  ball. 

But  at  Tom's  second  service,  instead  of  with 
drawing  behind  the  back  line,  Calkins  took  his  stand 
bravely  in  the  centre  of  the  court.  Again  Tom 
tossed  the  ball  in  the  air,  again  sent  it  whining  with 
the  tremendous  impact  imparted  to  it  toward  the 
other  corner  of  the  court.  This  time  likewise  it 
bounded  in  a  direction  contrary  to  its  course,  but 
it  had  no  sooner  struck  earth  than  the  Californian 
sprang  upon  it  with  a  leap,  caught  it  squarely  in 
the  centre  of  his  racket,  and  returned  it  with  a  ter 
rific  cross  court  which  Tom  all  but  failed  to  get. 
His  ball  rose  high,  sailing  straight  for  the  centre 
of  the  net  where  Calkins  was  waiting  to  smash  it, 
ten  feet  over  Tom's  frantic  swing. 

"He's  got  it,"  thought  Tom  desperately.  "He's 
been  studying  it  all  the  time." 

During   the  remainder   of   Tom's  Waterloo   the 


270       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"egg"  offered  no  obvious  difficulties  to  the  West 
erner.  In  fact,  Tom's  straight  cannon-ball  service 
won  him  more  games  than  the  now  discredited 
"egg."  This  Calif ornian  farmer  began  to  fill  Tom 
with  terror.  He  seemed  to  have  muscles  of  iron  and 
lungs  of  leather,  for  he  didn't  turn  a  hair  at  the 
tremendous  pace  Tom  set  for  him,  while  the  Har 
vard  champion  found  himself  reeking  and  panting 
at  the  end  of  every  rally. 

By  an  almost  superhuman  effort  Tom  won  the 
third  set,  practically  collapsed  at  the  fourth,  and 
lost  the  match  to  his  opponent,  having  taken  but 
nine  games  out  of  twenty-four ! 

He  made  an  heroic  effort,  befitting  a  good  sports 
man,  to  be  cheerful  and  good-natured  over  this 
heart-breaking  result,  and  vaulted  gracefully,  if 
not  gayly,  over  the  net  to  grasp  the  calloused  hand 
of  the  "Ruffled  Grouse."  He  felt  very  picturesque 
and  very  magnanimous  as  he  did  this,  and  he  tried 
to  make  a  little  speech  to  Calkins  which  should 
epitomize  the  sensational  aspect  of  the  occasion. 

"Old  man,"  he  cried  grandiloquently,  "I  don't 
grudge  you  this  victory;  you  deserve  it!  But  I 
hardly  expected  to  be  put  out  so  soon.  You're  a 
wonder!" 

Strangely  enough  the  Californian  did  not  seem 
to  think  that  the  occasion  was  one  of  any  particular 
moment,  nor  that  the  victory  was  at  all  surprising. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  shortly,  putting  on  a  faded 
bath-robe.  "That's  all  right.  I  expect  you're  a 
bit  out  of  condition.  That  'egg'  is  rather  neat. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       271 

But  on  the  whole  I  prefer  an  old-fashioned  smash. 
So  long." 

Thus  ended  the  brief  and  sensational  sporting 
career  of  Thomas  Kelly,  Esquire,  erstwhile  of  New- 
bury  Street,  Boston.  But  it  had  served  its  pur 
pose.  Through  it  he  had  stepped  into  his  own, 
into  the  world  of  wealth  and  fashion,  into  a  future 
of  untold  possibilities. 


XXII 

MY  DEAR  MR.  KELLY: 

It  will  give  me  the  sincerest  pleasure  if  you  will  make  one 
of  my  house-party  after  your  visit  to  Mrs.  Scott  is  over. 
I  do  not  know  how  long  you  are  planning  to  remain  in  New 
port,  but  I  should  be  delighted  to  have  you  regard  my  house 
as  your  home  for  whatever  length  of  time  you  care  to  stay. 
Berkman  is  leaving  to-morrow  and  his  room  is  at  your  dis 
posal.  Do  come ! 

Cordially  yours, 

ANNA  RUTHERFORD  JONES. 

Thus  ran  the  note  which  the  blue  footman 
handed  to  Tom  on  a  silver  salver  upon  his  return 
to  "Beausejour."  Had  he  received  it  in  June  he 
would  have  been  instantly  rilled  with  ecstatic  ex 
citement  at  such  a  pressing  invitation  from  one 
of  the  "leaders"— if  not  the  "leader"— of  New 
port  society.  As  it  was,  he  merely  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

So  the  old  girl  was  making  up  to  him  !  It  would 
probably  be  beastly  dull  staying  with  her,  and  yet 
it  offered  an  opportune  excuse  to  escape  from  the 
somewhat  chilly  hospitality  of  Mrs.  Scott.  There 
were  other  reasons,  too,  for  going.  For  one,  there 
were  disadvantages  about  being  in  the  same  house 
with  Lulie.  You  couldn't  be  at  high  pressure  all  the 
time.  You  might  burst  your  boiler.  For  another, 

272 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       273 

he  had  already  stayed  at  "Beausejour"  a  full  month 
and  felt  that  he  had  outworn  his  welcome.  Besides, 
he  owed  Allyn  seven  hundred  dollars  which  he  had 
no  immediate  prospect  of  being  able  to  repay,  and 
it  was  embarrassing  to  be  constantly  reminded  of 
the  unpleasant  fact  by  the  presence  of  his  friend. 
Last,  there  were  new  people  to  be  met  at  Mrs. 
Jones's,  new  debutantes  to  fascinate,  new  million 
aires  to  "  cotton  to,"  in  short,  new  fields  to  conquer 
by  virtue  of  the  sword  of  his  social  charm.  So  he 
remarked  casually  to  Allyn  that  evening: 

"You've  been  awfully  good  to  put  me  up  here 
for  so  long,  and  I've  had  a  perfectly  ripping  time. 
Now  that  my  match  is  over  I've  really  no  excuse 
for  hanging  on,  but  old  lady  Jones  has  asked  me 
over  to  stay  with  her  awhile,  and  she's  been  so 
decent  to  me  I  rather  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  go." 

"  Sorry  to  have  you  leave  us,"  answered  Allyn 
rather  coldly.  "But  you'll  no  doubt  enjoy  your 
self  there  for  a  while.  Anyhow  you  can  stay  until 
the  finals.  When  does  she  want  you?" 

" To-morrow,"  replied  Tom,  a  little  jarred  by 
his  friend's  tone. 

They  were  standing  at  the  door  of  the  royal  suite 
on  the  point  of  going  to  bed,  with  the  valet  loiter 
ing  unobtrusively  in  the  offing.  Tom  wondered 
if  Allyn  knew  anything  about  Lulie.  It  was  quite 
unlikely.  But  it  would  be  a  relief  to  get  out  of  the 
house.  The  valet  could  pack  his  things  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  The  valet !  It  came  to  him 
suddenly  that  the  man  would  have  a  right  to  expect 


274       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

a  handsome  gratuity  for  waiting  upon  him  for  a 
month — twenty-five  dollars  at  least!  And  there 
would  be  the  butler,  and  the  three  footmen  that 
were  always  on  duty  in  the  hall  and  dining-room, 
and  the  two  chambermaids,  and — horrors ! — the 
four  different  drivers  that  had  taken  him  about, 
and  the  steward  on  the  yacht,  and  the  quarter 
master  on  the  launch,  the  man  that  carried  the 
trunks,  and  maybe  the  housekeeper.  It  would 
make  a  hundred  dollar  bill  "look  sick!"  He  al 
most  turned  faint  and  poured  himself  a  Scotch- 
and-soda.  Then  he  took  the  bull  by  the  horns. 

"Damn  it  all,  Allyn!"  he  remarked,  as  if  the 
thought  had  just  occurred  to  him.  "I  find  I've 
run  short  again!  Can  you  lend  me  another  hun 
dred?'7 

Allyn  smiled. 

"I  think  so,"  he  said,  not  unkindly.  "Eight 
hundred  now,  isn't  it?  He  stepped  inside  the 
threshold  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  "Look 
here,  old  man.  You  don't  mind  my  speaking,  do 
you?  You're  really  hitting  up  too  hot  a  pace! 
You  see,  you're  my  guest  and  all  that,  and  I  feel 
it's  partly  my — all  our — fault.  But  you  simply 
mustn't  go  on  this  way.  Don't  think  I'm  afraid 
I'll  lose  my  money.  You  know  it  isn't  that.  I 
shan't  think  of  it  again.  It's  you  I'm  worried  about. 
You  may  think  it  funny  coming  from  me!  But 
you  make  us  all  look  like  pikers.  You'll  kill  your 
self!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  at  all !"  answered 
Tom,  taken  utterly  by  surprise. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       275 

Allyn  decanted  a  glass  of  whiskey  and  threw 
himself  back  in  a  leather  chair — - 

"Don't  be  sore  on  me/'  he  continued.  "You're 
different  from  us — or  at  least  you  were.  That's 
the  point,  and  I  feel  responsible.  You'd  hit  the 
bottle  a  little  in  Cambridge,  but  when  you  landed 
in  Newport  you  were  pretty  much  all  to  the  good 
— sound  in  wind  and  limb — a  clean-minded,  jolly, 
simple  old  Boston  son  of  a  gun.  Now  look  at  you ! 
All  out  of  condition.  Panting  and  wallowing  like 
a  walrus  all  over  the  court  in  a  national  tournament. 
Throwing  around  money  like  water.  Dangling 
after  a  lot  of  little  girls  and  letting  them  flatter 
you.  Sucking  up  as  much  rum  as  I  do — and  more. 
Smoking  yourself  to  death.  And  finally,  getting 
pie-eyed,  you  get  a  strangle-hold  upon  my  esteemed 
married  sister  and  kiss  her  right  in  front  of  her 
hubby.  Really,  you  know,  the  thing  isn't  done — 
except  in  novels,  maybe!" 

He  laughed  with  a  flat  attempt  at  gayety,  ob 
viously  trying  to  make  things  as  easy  as  possible 
for  his  friend.  But  his  words  made  Tom  writhe. 

"I'm  sorry  you  feel  that  way  about  me!"  he 
stammered.  He  knew  Allyn  meant  it  in  all  kind 
ness,  and  yet  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  take 
such  a  dressing  down  in  good  part.  Allyn  had 
done  nothing  less  than  insult  him.  He  took  a  few 
turns  up  and  down  the  room  to  get  his  bearings. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,  old  top!"  Allyn  hur 
ried  on.  "You  see  it's  only  because  we're  so  fond 
of  you  that  it  makes  any  difference.  Now  there's 
Parry !" 


276       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Oh,  he's  been  talking  about  me  too,  has  he?" 
snapped  Tom. 

"Oh,  no !    Parry's  one  of  your  best  friends— 

"The  hell  he  is!  Look  here,  Allyn.  You  may 
mean  well  enough,  but  it  strikes  me  you're  going 
a  bit  too  far.  If  that's  the  way  you  feel,  the  sooner 
I  leave  the  better." 

His  egotism  had  overcome  his  humiliation,  and 
he  spoke  now  with  lowered  lids  and  a  curl  on  his 
lips. 

Allyn  arose.  He  could  not  insult  a  guest,  even 
if  the  guest  had  abused  his  hospitality. 

"Look  here,  Tom!"  he  said  earnestly.  "Don't 
be  sore!  Of  course,  I  took  a  chance  in  speaking; 
but  I  was  honestly  worried  about  you.  I'm  sorry 
if  I've  hurt  your  feelings.  But,  you  see,  I  was  only 
doing  it  for  your  own  good.  I  may  be  wrong,  at 
that!  Let's  be  friends,  anyhow!  Give  us  your 
paw,  old  bear!" 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  Tom,  who  recognized 
that  he  deserved  every  word  that  Allyn  had  ut 
tered,  and  more,  and  that  his  pose  of  righteous  in 
dignation  was  absurd,  took  it  in  his. 

"That's  all  right,  Allyn!"  he  said  gruffly. 

"That's  a  good  Kelly!"  answered  Allyn  heartily. 

It  was — or  should  have  been — the  cue  to  a  real  rec 
onciliation — to  a  frank  confession  and  apology  on 
Tom's  part — to  a  new  endeavor,  more  tactful  per 
haps,  on  that  of  his  friend  to  put  him  right.  A  blur 
came  over  Tom's  eyes.  He  knew  he  was  a  swine ! 
Knew  that  it  was  all  true  I  And  Allyn  was  a  good 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       277 

sort  to  tell  him !  His  heart  warmed  to  his  friend, 
he  wanted  to  throw  his  arm  around  his  shoulder  and 
beg  his  pardon,  to  make  it  all  up  and  admit  what  a 
nincompoop  he  was !  For  Tom,  in  the  inner  recesses 
of  his  soul,  preserved  an  invisible  set  of  spiritual 
weights  and  measures  which  he  sometimes  used  un 
consciously.  He  recognized  perfectly  well  that  he 
was  a  swine,  but  he  excused  himself  on  the  ground 
that  he  was  living  in  the  same  pen  and  feeding  out 
of  the  same  trough  with  like  animals.  As  long  as  he 
was  doing  so,  his  swinishness  did  not  seem  to  him 
to  carry  with  it  the  same  moral  obliquity.  He  was 
in  Rome  and  doing  as  the  Romans  did,  that  was 
all.  And  now  as  he  looked  into  Allyn's  kindly 
eyes  his  better  nature  gained  the  ascendant.  His 
lip  trembled  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  bursting 
out  into  a  full  confession  of  his  swinishness,  and 
an  appeal  to  Allyn  to  help  him  turn  his  back 
upon  it. 

Allyn,  holding  Tom's  right  hand  in  his,  uncon 
sciously  thrust  his  left  into  his  trousers  pocket. 
It  came  in  contact  with  a  roll  of  crisp  bills.  Allyn 
was  only  aware  that  Tom  had  "come  around," 
and  was  no  longer  angry  with  him.  He  had  no 
intimation  of  the  depths  to  which  his  friend's  nature 
had  been  stirred — how  near  Tom  really  was  to  an 
emotional  crisis  which  might  have  had  a  revolu 
tionary  result  upon  his  character  and  future.  Allyn's 
fingers  closed  on  the  bills,  and  he  instinctively  drew 
them  forth  at  the  very  instant  that  Tom  was  about 
to  lay  bare  his  soul. 


278       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Well,  here's  that  hundred!"  he  remarked  jo 
cosely.  "Are  you  sure  that's  all  you  want?" 

The  sight  and  crackle  of  the  bills  with  the  words 
that  accompanied  them  strangled  Tom's  change 
of  heart  in  the  very  moment  of  its  birth,  choked 
it  like  a  hod  of  ashes  poured  over  a  tender  hapless 
sprout.  Instantly  he  hardened.  Withdrawing  his 
hand  almost  roughly  from  Allyn's,  he  stepped  back 
scowling : 

"Curse  your  money!"  he  cried  fiercely.  "I 
won't  touch  a  cent  of  the  damned  stuff!" 

But  in  the  next  instant  he  realized  that  he  must. 


XXIII 

IT  would  be  fruitless  to  dwell  in  detail  upon 
Tom's  visit  to  Mrs.  Jones.  The  summer  life  in  the 
various  mansions  along  the  Ocean  Walk  and  Rhode 
Island  Avenue  differs  but  little,  and  his  days  were 
passed  in  the  same  round  of  frivolous  activities 
as  before,  save  that  he  found  that  his  new  hostess 
regarded  herself  as  having,  in  exchange  for  her 
hospitality,  the  first  claim  upon  his  time.  While 
at  the  Scotts'  he  had  been  free  to  come  and  go  ex 
actly  as  he  chose,  with  no  questions  asked,  but  at 
Mrs.  Jones's  he  was  expected  to  lunch  and  dine  with 
his  hostess  whenever  she  remained  at  home  and  to 
spend  many  hours,  when  he  would  have  preferred 
to  be  on  the  water  or  at  the  Casino,  in  entertain 
ing  her  at  whist  and  piquet. 

Soon  he  found  himself  assisting  as  a  matter 
of  course  in  arranging  the  guests  at  her  constant 
dinner  and  luncheon  parties,  and  acting  as  un- 
salaried  majordomo  of  her  establishment.  Just 
how  this  had  come  about  he  was  unable  to  explain. 
He  had  at  first  felt  flattered  at  the  confidence  re 
posed  in  him,  but  when  this  extended  to  his  being 
held  personally  responsible  for  the  happiness  of 
all  the  more  unattractive  female  guests  he  was  in 
clined  to  rebel.  Yet,  had  he  rebelled  he  would 

279 


280       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

have  had  no  place  to  go.  Mrs.  Jones  was  more 
than  kind;  but  she  also  expected  him  to  be  more 
than  kind,  even  if  he  was  less  than  kin.  He  could 
at  any  moment  have  cast  himself  upon  the  Selbys 
and  been  received  with  open  arms,  but  this  would 
have  embarrassed  him.  If  he  was  going  to  live  on 
Pa  Selby  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  didn't  want  to 
begin  just  now.  He'd  take  his  off  time  first.  Be 
sides  it  would  have  complicated  his  affair  with 
Lulie.  So  he  stayed  on,  occupying  a'  position  in 
the  house  rather  like  that  of  an  eldest  son  who  has 
just  returned  home  after  a  prolonged  absence.  Par- 
radym,  when  they  met,  eyed  him  with  sinister 
humor.  It  was  plain  that  the  aged  sycophant  re 
garded  him  as  already  having  descended  to  a  lower 
level. 

Whether  it  was  due  to  Parradym's  attitude  or 
to  the  increasing  exactions  of  his  hostess,  Tom's 
visit  at  Mrs.  Jones's  rapidly  began  to  pall  upon  him. 
He  had  now  enjoyed  her  hospitality  for  nearly  a 
month,  the  social  season  was  slightly  on  the  wane, 
and  as  her  engagements  decreased  in  number  Mrs. 
Jones  availed  herself  more  and  more  of  Tom's  so 
ciety.  Before  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  September 
he  found  that  she  expected  him  to  spend  most  of  his 
time  with  her.  She  had  become,  as  she  frequently 
told  him,  increasingly  fond  of  him.  But  as  often 
happens,  her  fondness  carried  with  it  an  infor 
mality  of  treatment  which,  while  at  times  verging  on 
the  sentimental  was  at  others  peremptorily  exact 
ing  and  almost  contemptuous.  There  were  many 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       281 

occasions  when  she  could  not  have  been  more  gracious 
or  even  tender,  but  this  did  not  preclude  her  from 
ordering  him  about  like  a  servant  when  she  felt  so 
disposed. 

Altogether  Tom  felt  that  he  had  earned  his  pas 
sage  during  the  month  he  had  stayed  with  her,  and 
he  might  have  departed  sooner  than  he  did  had  he 
not  discovered  that  a  show  of  meekness  only  led  to 
greater  indignities,  and  that  a  display  of  indigna 
tion  upon  the  whole  rather  pleased  her  than  other 
wise.  Thus  their  relations  presently  came  to  re 
semble  those  of  a  mismatched  couple  who  indulged 
in  frequent  quarrels  invariably  followed  by  periods 
of  reconciliation.  During  these  Mrs.  Jones  was  ac 
customed  to  assert  that  she  was  a  lonely  old  woman, 
that  nobody  loved  her,  that  she  looked  upon  Tom 
almost  as  a  son,  and  that  if  he  ever  left  her  it  would 
break  her  heart.  As  often,  however,  she  would 
charge  him  with  selfishness  and  neglect,  and 
upbraid  him  for  leaving  her  alone  to  amuse  her 
self. 

Tom's  self-respect  suffered  severely  during  this 
humiliating  period,  but  as  he  wished  to  remain  in 
Newport  until  his  cruise  with  the  Selbys  he  had  no 
choice  but  to  stay  where  he  was.  He  soon  dis 
covered,  however,  that  Allyn's  opinion  of  his  host 
ess  was  sounder  than  the  one  which  he  had  himself 
originally  expressed.  It  might  well  be  that  the  old 
girl  was  not  a  human  vampire,  but  he  was  now  frank 
to  admit  that  there  was  something  unwholesome 
about  her — just  what,  he  could  not  define.  For 


282       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

one  thing  she  had  a  way  of  making  him  come  and 
sit  down  upon  a  stool  at  her  side  and  patting  his 
cheek  with  her  bony  old  hand.  On  these  occasions 
she  frequently  gave  him  what  she  called  "good  ad 
vice"  as  to  his  policy  and  conduct  of  life.  It  may 
have  been  that  she  had  an  unselfish  affection  for  this 
young  man,  as  she  had  had  for  other  young  men  be 
fore  him;  or  it  may  have  been  and  probably  was 
the  fact  that  her  interest  in  him  was  too  complex  for 
analysis.  Whatever  its  precise  character  it  was  un 
fortunate  that  at  this  point  in  Tom's  nascent  career 
an  older  woman  should  have  not  only  flattered  him 
with  her  attention  but  should  have  sought,  sincerely 
or  otherwise,  to  persuade  him  that  life  was  a  game 
of  chance  played  on  a  crooked  wheel. 

"Come  here,  Tommy!"  she  ordered  one  eve 
ning. 

All  the  guests  had  gone  and  his  aged  hostess  was 
sitting  before  her  own  picture,  smoking  a  cigarette 
before  going  to  her  room. 

"Come  here  and  let  me  talk  to  you." 

Tom  obediently  took  his  place  by  her  side,  and 
she  laid  her  hand  affectionately  on  his. 

"Don't  let  that  artist  fellow  Berkman  give  you 
any  of  his  queer  ideas,  Tommy!  He's  a  perfect 
magpie !  None  of  the  things  he  says  are  his  own. 
And  he  shouts  so !  That's  why  I  got  rid  of  him. 
Do  you  suppose  I'd  ever  have  accepted  my  portrait 
in  an  unfinished  condition  if  I  could  have  stood  him 
a  moment  longer?  Never !  I  suppose  he  talked  you 
deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  didn't  he?" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       283 

Tom  laughed  uneasily— 

"He  certainly  likes  to  talk,"  he  parried. 

"Talk!  That's  all  he  can  do.  What  does  an 
ugly  little  brat  like  that  know  about  life?  He  can 
daub  paint  on  a  canvas — yes !  But  all  his  life 
long  he'll  get  nothing  that  he  doesn't  have  to  fight 
for!" 

"Perhaps  you  mean  'that  he  doesn't  have  to 
pay  for,' "  hazarded  Tom. 

"Put  it  your  own  way,"  she  retorted  sharply. 
"Which  do  you  value  most,  what  you  buy  for 
dirty  money  or  what  is  given  freely?  Is  a  woman's 
love  you  can  buy  with  money  worth  having?  The 
world  is  full  of  two  kinds  of  people,  Tom;  those 
who  have  charm  and  those  who  have 'not.  It  be 
longs  to  the  first.  They  are  the  overlords  of  life, 
and  the  others  pay  tribute  to  them  like  peasants. 
They  ask  for  what  they  want  and  they  get  it. 
Berkman  is  a  peasant." 

She  looked  keenly  at  Tom. 

"But  you're  one  of  the  others,  Tom!"  she  said: 
"You  can  have  what  you  want  for  the  asking.  And 
it's  something  to  be  proud  of,  not  ashamed  of! 
Youth !  It's  the  gift  of  the  gods !" 

She  bit  her  lips  and  gripped  the  arm  of  the  chair 
with  her  unoccupied  hand. 

"My  God !  What  wouldn't  I  give  to  be  young !" 
she  groaned  suddenly,  so  that  he  was  startled. 
"Don't  mind  me,  Tommy!  I'm  just  a  foolish  old 
woman,  who  sees  life  slipping  away  from  her  before 
she's  ready  to  go,  and  wants  a  few  hundred  years 


284       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

more  of  it.  Take  all  you  can  get,  Tom.  Women 
like  you,  and  women  run  the  game.  Don't  make 
any  mistake  about  that.  Anything  you  want  a 
woman  can  get  for  you.  And  don't  be  afraid  to 
ask  her,  either.  She'll  be  more  than  ready  to  give 
it  to  you.  For  you've  got  the  greatest  thing  in  all 
the  world — youth — immortal  youth ! " 

Tom  was  acutely  embarrassed  and  at  the  same 
time  hugely  flattered.  But  he  realized  the  tragic 
note  in  what  his  hostess  was  saying.  Not  knowing 
what  to  reply,  he  lit  a  cigarette  in  a  self-conscious 
manner  and  blew  smoke  rings,  waiting  until  she 
should  resume. 

"You  wonder  why  I  say  these  things  to  you? 
It's  only  because  I'm  fond  of  you — really  devoted 
to  you,  and  I  want  to  see  you  make  a  success.  Don't 
go  off  and  marry  the  first  foolish  little  chit  that 
makes  eyes  at  you.  Don't  get  tied  up  with  some 
married  woman  or  any  woman  that  hasn't  any 
future  or  position.  Wait !  You've  plenty  of  time. 
Heavens,  you're  only  twenty!  Have  your  fling — 
see  the  world — sow  your  wild  oats  if  you  want  to 
—only  ask  me  about  it,  first.  But  don't  be  in  a 
hurry!  Then  when  the  right  girl  comes  along — 
why,  take  her!  And  any  girl  would  have  you 
— believe  me!  I'm  a  wise  old  woman  and  I 
know!" 

"Thanks!"  laughed  Tom.  "You're  highly  flat 
tering.  And  I  intend  to  follow  your  advice.  But 
wouldn't  I  be  buying  the  lady,  just  the  same  as 
any  other?" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       285 

Mrs.  Jones  smiled  a  wrinkled  smile  and  shook 
her  finger  at  him  indulgently. 

"You  clever  child!  Well,  perhaps  you  would. 
But  at  any  rate  you  would  be  getting  a  better  bar 
gain." 


XXIV 

THE  announcement  of  Tom's  contemplated  cruise 
upon  the  Pauline  brought  a  renewed  outburst  from 
Mrs.  Jones.  It  was,  she  asserted,  an  absurd  waste 
of  his  time  and  a  dangerous  interruption  in  his  so 
far  highly  successful  career.  Mrs.  Jones  had — or 
claimed  to  have — "  plans  "  for  Tom — what  they 
were  she  did  not  disclose — which  would  be  vitally 
disarranged  by  his  abrupt  departure  at  this  time. 
To  go  sailing  off  alone  with  a  young  girl  on  a  yacht 
— even  if  her  father  and  mother  were  along — would 
in  a  sense  compromise  him.  He  would  be  regarded 
as  having  had  the  bloom  rubbed  off,  so  to  speak. 
Moreover,  she  expected  shortly  to  return  to  her 
"  spring-and-autumn  place"  at  Roslyn,  Long 
Island,  and  she  wanted  him  to  assist  her  in  the 
onerous  task  of  transferring  her  household  thither. 
Tom,  suspecting  that  this  was  the  "plan"  to  which 
she  referred,  resolutely  declined  to  be  diverted,  ex 
plaining  that  he  was  under  a  binding  obligation  to 
make  the  trip  and  that,  anyhow,  he  had  no  interest 
in  the  girl. 

Wise  old  Mrs.  Jones,  however,  merely  laughed  at 
him.  He  was  going,  she  protested,  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  marry  the  first  million  dollars' 
worth  of  pickle- jars  who  proposed  to  him.  The 

286 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       287 

whole  thing  was  nothing  but  a  scheme,  on  the 
part  of  the  Selbys,  to  get  him  where  he  would  be 
helpless  and  then  bind  him  hand  and  foot.  These 
yachting  trips  were  inevitably  the  debacle  in  promis 
ing  young  lives.  At  last,  perceiving  him  to  be  in 
exorable,  she  yielded  rather  more  gracefully  than 
might  have  been  expected  and,  having  extorted  a 
promise  from  him  to  join  her  in  the  country  im 
mediately  upon  his  return,  bade  him  a  sinister  fare 
well. 

Lulie  presented  greater  difficulty.  Ever  since 
her  husband's  sudden  disappearance  from  "Beause- 
jour"  she  had  evinced  an  interest  in  Tom  which, 
while  delightful  at  times,  was  at  others  extremely 
disconcerting.  Coincidently  there  seemed  to  be 
something  mysterious  going  on  in  her  private  af 
fairs — just  what  he  was  unable  to  surmise.  She 
was  as  alluring  as  ever,  more  alluring  now  that  she 
was  no  longer  merely  a  vision — but  there  was  less 
frivolity  in  her  attitude  toward  him.  This  worried 
Tom,  rather.  It  was  quite  true  that  he  had  kissed 
her  in  the  moonlight  and  had  told  her  that  he  loved 
her,  as  he  had  others.  But  he  had  no  idea  of  com 
mitting  himself  to  a  wedding  march,  ever  so  prob 
lematical,  with  her  or  of  leading  her  to  believe  that 
he  had.  Simply  because  you  took  a  married  woman 
in  your  arms  and  swore  you  adored  her  was  no 
reason — certainly  not ! — for  thinking  that  you  were 
prepared  to  face  the  ignominy  of  a  divorce  court 
and  a  future  without  alimony. 

Somehow  Lulie  had  in  some  indefinable  way  man- 


288      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

aged  to  create  an  atmosphere  of  finality  about  their 
relations  that  somewhat  frightened  him.  Why, 
dozens  of  men  must  have  done  the  same  thing  to  her 
before  without  getting  into  any  such  muddle.  He 
almost  wished  that  he  could  confide  in  old  Mother 
Jones,  but  he  instinctively  realized  that  if  he  did  it 
would  be  good-by  to  Lulie !  The  old  dragon  would 
eat  her  alive !  On  the  other  hand,  it  looked  as  if 
Lulie  might  eat  him  alive !  But  then  poor  Tom  was 
almost  ready  to  be  eaten  alive.  One  day  he  would 
be  thirsty  for  her  presence,  and  the  very  next  he 
would  be  gasping  at  the  dilemma  in  which  the 
service  upon  him  of  a  legal  document  naming  him 
as  a  corespondent  would  place  him.  Was  he  willing 
to  have  Lulie  and  her  three  millions  at  such  a  price  ? 
Any  suggestion  that  he  proposed  to  go  sailing  off 
all  over  the  Maine  coast  with  Pauline  Selby  would 
have  brought  about  a  crisis  which  he  had  no  courage 
to  face.  He  wasn't  ready  to  marry  Lulie  in  spite 
of  his  passion  for  her.  In  fine  he  shrewdly  suspected 
that  the  fact  that  he  could  not  possibly  marry  her 
had  been  one  of  the  elements  in  her  original  at 
traction  for  him.  One  didn't  marry  Cleopatra  or 
Semiramis — or  Mrs.  Potiphar ! 

So  he  carefully  concealed  his  traitorous  intention, 
trusting  to  chance  to  make  it  possible  for  him  to  find 
a  plausible  excuse  for  his  desertion  at  the  appropriate 
time.  As  luck  would  have  it,  Lulie  received  a  sudden 
summons  by  telegraph  from  New  York — from  her 
lawyer,  she  explained  with  dark  suggestiveness — the 
day  before  the  departure  of  the  Pauline,  and  he  saw 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       289 

her  enter  the  Pullman  car  at  the  junction,  and 
bade  her  farewell  through  the  open  window  feeling 
like  a  schoolboy  who  kisses  his  mother  good-by 
just  before  playing  hookey. 

The  elder  Selbys  greeted  Tom  effusively.  There 
was  that  in  their  manner  which  indicated  that  his 
appearance  on  board  the  yacht  was  tantamount 
to  putting  the  final  seals  on  a  prenuptial  agree 
ment.  Pauline,  herself,  displayed  a  new  and  un 
wonted — in  fact  almost  maidenly — shyness  and 
reserve.  Also  to  Tom's  astonishment  he  discovered 
a  totally  unexpected  passenger  in  the  person  of 
Parradym. 

The  cruise  started  auspiciously  after  a  dinner 
eaten  while  the  yacht  was  still  at  her  moorings  in 
Newport  Harbor,  for  the  captain  had  wisely  de 
cided  to  make  his  first  essay  of  the  broad  rollers 
of  the  Atlantic  while  the  family  were  safely  in  their 
berths  and  to  get  as  many  as  possible  of  the 
four  hundred  sea  miles  to  Mt.  Desert  behind  the 
Pauline's  propeller  before  it  should  be  necessary 
for  them  to  get  up  again. 

Tom  had  received  another  letter  from  his  mother 
just  before  his  departure,  but  he  had  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket  in  the  vague  apprehension  that  it  might 
contain  something  which  would  interfere  with  his 
embarkation.  Once  the  Pauline  had  weighed  anchor, 
and  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  him  to  return,  he 
opened  it  in  the  privacy  of  his  stateroom.  As  he 
expected,  his  mother  had  returned  to  Boston  and 


290      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

longed  to  see  him  again.  She  had  read,  she  said, 
of  his  defeat  in  the  tournament,  but  she  appre 
ciated  the  fact  that  he  was  probably  too  much  dis 
appointed  by  the  result  to  write  to  her  about  it. 
There  was  nothing  now,  however,  to  keep  him  longer 
in  Newport,  and  she  hoped  that  he  would  return 
at  once  in  time  to  enter  the  law  school.  She  was 
anxious  that  he  should  do  this  and  become  a  lawyer, 
like  his  father.  Everybody  said  he  was  so  " bright" 
that  she  was  sure  he  could  easily  become  a  great 
man  if  he  only  tried — like  Rufus  Choate,  perhaps. 
She  still  continued  to  "do  rather  poorly"  as  she 
expressed  it,  but  she  hoped  that  the  quiet  of  New- 
bury  Street  and  Bridget's  good  old-fashioned  cook 
ing  would  soon  make  her  feel  like  herself  again.-  The 
only  hint  of  uneasiness  in  the  letter  was  contained 
in  the  concluding  sentence: 

"  My  dear,  dear  boy,"  she  wrote  in  a  hand  more  shaky, 
Tom  noticed,  than  in  her  preceding  letter.  "  I  hope  the  plea 
sures  of  athletics  and  social  life  have  not  taken  your  mind 
off  higher  things  or  your  duty  toward  Him  to  whom  we  owe 
everything.  Oh,  my  dear  son !  My  constant  prayer  is  that 
you  will  bear  yourself  worthily  as  a  follower  of  Jesus  Christ. 
"  Your  devoted  mother, 

"  CAROLINE  M.  KELLY." 

Tom,  who  was  sitting  upon  a  wicker  divan  with 
his  feet  on  the  bed  when  he  read  the  letter,  ground 
the  end  of  the  cigar  which  he  was  smoking  between 
his  teeth.  Why  did  his  mother  invariably  write 
that  kind  of  tosh?  It  was  embarrassing  merely 


THE  WORLD   A\ND  THOMAS  KELLY       291 

to  read  it!  He  made  a  face,  not  so  much  at  the 
sentiments  contained  in  her  epistle,  as  at  what  he 
regarded  as  the  indelicacy  of  forever  talking  and 
writing  about  that  kind  of  thing.  Anyhow  it  was 
a  relief  to  know  that  he  would  not  have  to  ask  Selby 
to  turn  back  to  Newport  or  put  in  at  Boston.  His 
mother  was  all  right.  That  cough  of  hers  which 
had  been  familiar  to  him  for  twenty  years — was 
half — if  not  all— nervousness.  She'd  do  well  enough 
once  she  had  Bridget  to  look  after  her.  He  crunched 
the  letter  into  his  coat  pocket,  intending  to  throw 
it  overboard,  and  filled  his  gold  cigarette-case  from 
a  gilded  glass  box  upon  the  table  by  the  port-hole. 
It  was  a  swell  room,  all  right!  The  chintz  was 
really  bully!  He  did  not  know,  of  course,  that 
Pauline  had  selected  it  herself,  and  had  had  the 
stateroom  expensively  decorated  for  his  coming. 

He  threw  on  his  polo-coat,  to  get  which  had  been 
the  ostensible  reason  for  going  to  his  stateroom, 
and  mounted  the  companionway  to  the  deck,  where 
he  found  the  whole  party  having  coffee  under  the 
awning,  and  watching  the  lights  of  Newport  fast 
dimming  behind  them. 

"Well,"  nodded  Ma  Selby,  "here  we  are  at  last. 
We  ought  to  have  a  real  good  time  for  the  next 
two  weeks." 

"Th'  comp'ny's  all  right,  anyhow!"  agreed  her 
husband.  "Just  what  I  like,  one  or  two  congenial 
people  so's  not  to  be  lonely,  and  not  enough  to  have 
to  make  any  effort." 

"That's  what  I  like,  too,"  echoed  his  wife.    "Not 


292       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

havin'  to  make  an  effort!  I  do  get  tired  at  New 
port  with  all  this  going  out  to  dinner — not  but 
what  I  like  it,  too!"  she  added,  for  fear  that  Tom 
might  infer  that  she  was  by  nature  unadapted  to 
the  higher  life. 

"You  heard  what  the  cabby  said  to  Captain 
Granger  the  other  day?"  remarked  Parradym  af 
fably,  saving  the  conversation  from  plunging  into 
the  depths  of  personal  reminiscence.  ' '  Granger,  you 
know,  is  an  Englishman,  and  picked  up  a  cab  just 
to  see  the  town.  'What  do  all  these  people  do  to 
amuse  themselves?'  he  inquired  of  the  driver. 
'Feed  off  one  another,  mostly/  said  the  cabby." 

Pa  Selby  slapped  his  knee.  "That's  a  good  one ! 
That's  just  how  I  feel  about  it!  'Feed  off  one 
another ! '  Ha !  Ha !  That's  what  7  always  say ! 
What's  the  use  of  feeding  off  one  another  when  you 
can  feed  at  home  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Exactly!"  answered  Parradym,  winking  im 
perceptibly  at  Tom. 

The  Pauline  slipped  swiftly  down  Narragansett 
Bay,  and  soon  a  slight  lift  of  the  bows  foretold 
their  approach  to  deep  water. 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  turn  in!"  speedily  declared 
Mrs.  Selby,  addressing  her  husband.  "You  better 
come  too,  papa.  You  ain't  used  to  the  ocean. 
The  young  folks  can  stay  up  as  long  as  they 
want  to!" 

"Good  night,  everybody!"  at  once  said  Mr. 
Selby  obediently.  "You  may  not  see  us  again  very 
soon.  But  the  captain  says  we  ought  to  be  in 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       293 

Bar  Harbor  to-morrow  afternoon.  Anyhow,  if  you 
don't  see  what  you  want,  ring  for  it !" 

The  two  old  people  with  much  effort  negotiated 
the  upper  steps  of  the  slippery  companionway,  and 
presently  disappeared. 

"Does  anybody  want  to  walk  up  and  down  a 
little?"  inquired  Pauline  innocently. 

"Anybody  does/'  answered  Parradym  with  a 
smile.  "But  I  prefer  to  sit  here  and  smoke.  You 
two  young  things  can  go  and  amuse  yourselves. 
I  won't  look." 

The  yacht  was  meeting  the  combers  head  on, 
her  bow  sending  upward  great  showers  of  moonlit 
spray.  Tom  slipped  Pauline's  hand  through  his 
arm,  and  led  her  to  where  they  could  stand  in  the 
shelter  of  the  bridge  and  watch  the  great  undulat 
ing  waste  of  the  silvered  ocean. 

The  girl  was,  contrary  to  her  usual  habit,  strangely 
silent,  and  Tom,  rinding  it  difficult  to  think  of  any 
thing  appropriate  to  say,  stood  there  speechless  be 
side  her.  Pauline  did  not  look  at  him;  indeed,  she 
did  not  seem  to  be  looking  anywhere,  and  he  could 
without  difficulty  divine  that  she  was  deeply  moved 
by  something.  He  realized  distinctly  that  it  was 
"his  move."  She  had  worked  herself  up  to  a  su 
preme  emotional  crisis,  planned  the  whole  thing  to 
give  him  this  opportunity  the  very  first  night  out 
so  that  they  could  have  the  full  benefit  of  the  entire 
voyage  as  acknowledged  lovers.  Old  Parradym 
had  been  brought  along  to  amuse  the  others — even 
if  he  were  not  a  party  to  the  plot,  and  the  almanac 


294       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

consulted  in  advance  as  to  the  weather  and  the 
moon. 

Yet  Tom  felt  no  responding  thrill.  Not  one 
beat  faster  did  his  callous  young  heart  register 
as  Pauline  moved  a  shade  closer  to  him,  and 
tightened  almost  unnoticeably  the  clasp  of  her 
hand  upon  his  arm.  But  he  had  to  say  something ! 
And  he  did  feel  something  like  pity  for  this  fresh, 
young  creature  who  was  so  obviously  eating  her 
heart  out  for  him.  After  all  she  was  his  friend,  his 
playmate — almost  an  intimate.  It  was  hard  to 
feel  that  he  was  the  cause  of  making  her  suffer. 
That  she  was  suffering  was  obvious.  She  had  tuned 
herself  up  to  this  great  moment  and  her  nerves 
were  tense — ready  to  snap  on  the  one  hand  or  to 
burst  into  a  joyous  ecstatic  love-song  upon  the 
other.  And  all  for  him!  Why?  he  asked  him 
self.  He  had  never  said  anything  to  her.  He  had 
never  given  her  any  real  encouragement.  Com 
pared  with  his  conduct  regarding  Lulie,  he  had 
acted  toward  her  like  a  human  icicle.  It  was  rather 
nice,  though,  to  have  a  girl,  particularly  such  a 
stunner  as  Pauline,  all  fussed  up  over  one !  Why, 
hang  it,  the  child  was  actually  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  him !  She  really  was  a  dear !  He  wanted 
to  put  his  arm  around  her  and  draw  her  tightly  to 
him  and  tell  her  how  very,  very  nice  he  thought 
she  was;  but  something  warned  him  not  to  do  it. 
It  was  not  entirely  the  recollection  of  Ma  Selby 
either,  although  her  gestures  and  figure  were  vividly 
present  in  his  mind. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       295 

Pauline  was  at  times  appallingly  like  her.  These 
athletic  girls  were  apt  to  put  on  weight  if  they 
stopped  exercising  even  for  a  moment.  He  could 
never  stand  a  fat  Pauline!  Moreover,  the  remarks 
of  old  lady  Jones  had  given  him  something  to  think 
about.  He  had  been  a  fool  even  to  consider  Pauline 
seriously.  Imagine  having. Pa  Selby  for  a  father- 
in-law!  There  were  plenty  of  good  little  fish  in 
the  sea — "goldfish" — eager  for  the  fly.  It  was 
lucky  he'd  not  gone  on  with  her  as  he  had  with 
Lulie — !  If  he  had,  well  he'd  have  had  to  make 
good,  of  course.  But  he  had  not  and  the  situation 
was  all  due  to  Pauline's  own  impetuous  insistence 
on  getting  what  she  wanted  when  she  wanted  it. 
Apparently  he  was  not  to  be  consulted  in  the  matter 
at  all.  Pauline  had  always  bought  what  pleased 
her,  and  now  she  proposed  to  buy  him;  at  least, 
that  was  the  way  it  looked.  No !  No !  It  would 
take  more  millions  than  belonged  to  the  Selbys  to 
make  him  surrender  youth,  freedom,  Lulie,  and 
the  possibility  of  a  brilliant — a  " great"  marriage. 
Some  woman  had  used  the  term,  and  it  had  stuck 
in  his  mind.  If  he  married  at  all  that  was  what  he 
would  make — a  "great"  marriage.  But  mean 
while  Pauline  was  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

Gently  he  moved  slightly  away  from  her. 

"What — er — what  a  lovely  night!"  he  said  awk 
wardly. 

Pauline  did  not  reply.  She  had  lowered  her 
head  so  that  her  face  was  in  shadow.  He  felt  the 
imperceptible  pressure  of  her  body  against  his,  and 


296       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

that  she  was  trembling.  Poor  Pauline !  After  her 
calm  assumption  that  she  could  do  as  she  liked  it 
was  tough  luck  for  her.  He  also  experienced  a 
certain  contrition  for  having  been  the  cause  of 
what  he  knew  would  be  a  deep  humiliation,  but 
with  due  regard  for  his  own  safety  it  was  obvious 
that  he  could  do  nothing  to  make  the  situation 
easier  for  her.  In  fact,  he  told  himself  the  more 
of  a  brute  he  was  the  better,  for  no  explanation 
that  he  could  give  in  the  nature  of  a  confession  or 
expression  of  regret  could  help  him.  Anything  he 
might  say  would  only  hurt  her  pride  the  more. 
He  must  remain  in  her  eyes  what  he  knew  himself 
to  be — or  at  least  to  have  been — in  fact,  a  cad.  In 
voluntarily  he  uttered  a  smothered  expression  of 
impatience  at  his  predicament.  She  started  and 
half  turned  to  him.  Swiftly  disengaging  his  arm 
from  hers,  he  said  gruffly: 

"Pretty  cold  out  here,  don't  you  think?  Per 
haps  we'd  better  go  in." 

Then  it  was  that  the  taut  strings  of  Pauline's 
heart  snapped.  With  a  sort  of  sob  she  quickly 
turned  and  half  ran  toward  the  companionway. 
Tom  started  to  follow  her  and  then  stopped.  After 
all,  it  was  better  to  have  the  whole  thing  end  just 
that  way — to  get  it  over  once  and  for  all !  He  went 
back  to  where  they  had  been  standing  and  stood 
watching  the  moon  for  some  time.  Then  he  ut 
tered  a  mild  oath,  and  walked  back  to  where  Par- 
radym  was  sitting. 


XXV 

THE  philosopher's  head  was  almost  entirely  con 
cealed  in  the  collar  of  his  ulster,  but  a  projecting 
pipe  indicated  that  somewhere  behind  the  collar 
there  must  be  a  face.  Tom  sank  down  rather 
gloomily  beside  him,  and  presently  from  the  depths 
of  the  ulster,  like  the  voice  of  an  oracle  behind  the 
altar,  a  muffled  voice  remarked: 

"Well,  young  'un!  Have  you  given  hostages 
to  fortune?" 

"No,"  replied  Tom.  "I  am  still  white,  twenty-one 
—and  free !  I  had  a  close  squeak,  though.  e  Alone 
at  last/  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Curse  you !  I 
believe  you're  responsible  for  almost  landing  me  in 
the  net  of  matrimony." 

"And  you're  not  landed — or  at  least  hooked?" 

"No!" 

Parradym  arose  abruptly  and  slapped  Tom's  knee. 

"You  surprise  me!  Come  down-stairs — 'below' 
I  believe  is  the  proper  term,  and  have  a  nightcap. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Congratulations,  my  son!" 

They  made  their  way  to  the  smoking-room,  where 
Parradym  ordered  a  hot  toddy. 

"Cold  up  there!"  he  grumbled.  "I  supposed 
that  after  to-night  you  wouldn't  need  a  chaperon." 

Tom  shook  his  head. 

297 


298       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"We  all  need  'em,  I  guess!"  he  remarked.  In 
fact  he  had  begun  to  realize  how  close  to  the  edges 
of  various  precipices  he  had  been  disporting  him 
self  He  also  recognized  the  indubitable  fact  that 
Parry's  advice  given  him  at  the  outset  of  his  New 
port  career  had  been  wise,  even  if  he  had  not  seen 
fit  to  follow  it. 

"Don't  wait  up !"  said  Parradym  to  the  steward. 
"I'll  switch  off  the  light."  Then  he  turned  to  Tom, 
his  reddish  face  illuminated  by  a  kindly  smile. 

"You  haven't  got  tired  of  hothouse  melons  al 
ready,  have  you?" 

Tom  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"Not  tired  of  them  exactly.  Used  to  them,  per 
haps.  They  don't  seem  quite  so  much  of  a  treat 
as  they  did  at  first.  But  they  still  taste  good." 

"Any  better  than  what  you  had  in  Cam 
bridge ?" 

Tom  pondered  this  astonishing  question.  The 
food  at  Memorial  had  in  fact  been  appalling — tough, 
gristly  steak,  spotty  potatoes,  heavy  bread,  but 
he  had  devoured  it  with  a  relish  which  was  now 
totally  absent. 

"No!"  answered  Tom  frankly.  "Of  course, 
they  are  better,  only  they  don't  taste  so.  You  were 
right,  and  so  was  old  Billy  Shakespeare  when  he 
got  off  that  bit  about  satiety  dulling  the  edge  of 
appetite,  or  whatever  it  was." 

"I  didn't  claim  any  originality,"  replied  Parry. 
"I  merely  tried  to  impress  upon  you  the  truth  of 
an  ancient  and  quite  familiar  principle." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       299 

"But  I  didn't  appreciate  your  good  intentions. 
However,  I  do  now.  Marrying  a  couple  of  mil 
lion  dollars  doesn't  seem  half  so  exciting  now  as  it 
did  six  weeks  ago." 

"That's  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about." 

Parry  pulled  his  chair  nearer. 

"Of  course,  Shakespeare  was  right  and  was  only 
repeating  a  truth  as  old  as  Adam,  who  no  doubt 
ate  more  than  one  apple  and  got  heartily  sick  of 
them  before  he  was  driven  out  by  the  angel  with 
the  flaming  sword.  You  knew  it  yourself,  only 
you  were  loath  to  apply  a  familiar  doctrine  to  a 
new  set  of  circumstances.  I  was  just  the  same  way 
at  your  age.  I  was  all  for  the  peaches,  the  plums, 
and  the  melons.  I  was  satisfied  that  if  I  could  get 
them  without  effort  I  should  be  perfectly  happy. 
Well,  I  found  it  easy  enough  to  get  them,  but  I 
soon  found  I  didn't  want  them.  For  twenty  years 
I've  eaten  nothing  but  the  simplest  kind  of  food. 
I'm  speaking  both  literally  and  allegorically.  We 
don't  enjoy  anything  we  don't  have  to  work  for, 
Tommy.  I  have  to  work  hard  at  golf  to  get  up  an 
appetite  even  for  a  boiled  egg  and  a  chop." 

"Horrible  example!"  exclaimed  Tom,  who  was, 
nevertheless,  keenly  interested  in  Parradym's  con 
fession. 

"Now  what  you  say  about  marrying  a  couple 
of  millions  interests  me  a  good  deal,"  continued 
his  friend.  "I'm  almost  afraid  you  have  learned 
your  lesson  too  well.  I  hope  you  refer  only  to 
'marrying  millions.5  If  so,  I  hope  you'll  stand  by 


300       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

your  guns.  Only  don't  make  the  mistake  of  not 
marrying  at  all — if  you  honestly  fall  in  love.  Take 
warning  from  my  sad  case.  When  I  found  I  could 
have  my  peaches  and  my  melons  for  the  asking, 
I  began  to  wonder  if  there  was  any  advantage  in 
marrying  anybody.  I  saw  a  lot  of  people  who 
were  wretchedly  unhappy  together,  and  even  more 
wretched  after  they  had  dissolved  their  matri 
monial  ties.  I  discovered  that  marriage  usually 
meant  children,  anxiety,  sickness,  and  death.  I 
'took  counsel  of  my  fears.'  Why  fall  in  love  and 
bring  children  into  the  world  if  by  so  doing  I  was 
going  to  expose  myself  to  the  arrows  of  outrageous 
fortune?  My  parents  were  both  dead.  Sorrow 
couldn't  touch  me.  Why  invite  unhappiness?  If 
I  had  no  family  I  would  have  only  myself  to  look 
out  for,  to  worry  about,  and  when  I  died  nobody 
would  suffer  the  agonies  of  bereavement  on  my 
account.  So  I  shut  myself  up  in  my  shell  and 
built  an  iron  wall  around  my  affections  to  keep 
out  sorrow." 

Parradym's  face  had  grown  very  sad. 

"I  was  a  fool,  Tom !  What  wouldn't  I  give  now 
to  have  had  sorrow !  Many's  the  time  I've  envied 
my  friend  with  a  dead  child.  Pain  and  joy  go  hand 
in  hand.  Deaden  your  capacity  for  one  and  you 
lose  the  other.  To-day  I'd  rather  have  had  a  year 
or  so  with  a  woman  I  had  loved, — and  have  lost 
her, — than  to  be  what  I  am — a  lonely,  wifeless, 
childless  old  man!" 

"But  not  friendless!"  said  Tom  gently. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       301 

"  Sometimes  I  think  I  am,"  returned  Parradym. 
I  know  I  am.  You  needn't  protest.  I  impress 
most  people  just  as  I  impressed  you  at  our  first 
meeting.  Seriously,  you  can't  imagine  how  lonely 
I  am,  or  how  the  vacuousness  of  my  life  palls  upon 
me.  You  see  I've  dried  up  with  the  monotony  of 
it.  And  then  there's  the  other  side  of  it.  We  old 
fellows  without  any  responsibilities  or  emotions 
haven't  had  the  experiences  which  seem  to  give 
other  men  the  capacity  for  religious  belief.  Theo 
retically,  intellectually,  and  logically,  too,  I  sup 
pose — I'm  just  a  selfish  old  materialist.  I  don't 
believe  in  either  heaven  or  hell,  or  in  rewards  or 
punishments.  There  may  be  a  God  or  there  may 
not — for  all  I  know.  I've  got  no  wish  to  live,  and 
I've  got  no  will  to  die.  One  day  is  just  like  an 
other.  Some  fellow — Stephen  Phillips,  I  think — 
has  put  it  pretty  well: 

"'0  would  there  were  a  heaven  to  hear ! 
O  would  there  were  a  hell  to  fear ! 
Ah,  welcome  fire,  eternal  fire, 
To  burn  forever  and  not  tire ! 

Better  Ixion's  whirling  wheel, 

And  still  at  any  cost  to  feel ! 

Dear  Son  of  God,  in  mercy  give 

My  soul  to  flames,  but — let  me  live  I ' " 

Tom  could  think  of  nothing  adequate  to  say  in 
response.  For  the  first  time  he  saw  the  real  Par 
radym.  So  he  fidgeted  with  his  glass,  unable  to 


302       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

speak,  while  the  bachelor  gazed  in  a  sort  of  dream 
at  the  big  swinging  lamp  in  the  middle  of  the  smok 
ing-room  ceiling.  Unexpectedly  he  burst  out  laugh- 
ing- 

"Well,  well!"  he  exclaimed  jocularly,  reaching 
for  a  match,  "I  really  quite  forgot  where  I  was. 
It's  not  often  I'm  taken  that  way.  But  don't  give 
up  the  idea  of  getting  married,  old  top,  will  you?" 

Parradym  leaned  forward  and  gazed  deep  into 
Tom's  eyes. 

"If  you  ever  meet  a  girl  you  love — in  the  right 
way,  I  mean,  go  after  her — through  fire  and  water, 
if  need  be,  and  don't  let  up  until  you  get  her  or 
you're  dead.  Only  that  way  will  you  find  happi 
ness.  Don't  be  scared  off  at  the  idea  that  mar 
riage  and  childbirth  mean  work  and  worry  and 
pain  and  death.  Thank  God  for  the  chance  to  work 
and  worry  and  suffer,  and  perhaps  when  you  die 
you'll  feel  that  life  was  worth  living.  I'm  going  to 
bed!" 

He  got  up  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Tom  who 
took  it,  embarrassed  at  the  seriousness  and  in 
tensity  of  Parradym's  outburst.  He'd  never  sus 
pected  that  Parry  wasn't  happy!  He  seemed  so 
jovial  and  comfortable — always  having  a  good 
time  at  other  people's  expense ! 

Tom  sat  smoking  for  a  long  time  after  Parradym 
had  gone  to  his  stateroom.  He  wondered  if  what 
the  old  boy  said  was  really  true.  Queer  idea — 
about  having  to  suffer  in  order  to  enjoy.  He  didn't 
quite  swallow  that!  He  yawned.  No,  he  hadn't 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       303 

suffered  at  all  and,  by  thunder,  he'd  enjoyed  a  whole 
lot.  His  thoughts  reverted  to  Lulie  as  he  turned  off 
the  light,  and  sought  the  cabin  upon  which  Pauline 
had  expended  so  much  thought  and  attention  in 
preparation  for  him. 

The  wind  blew  itself  out  during  the  night,  and 
when  Tom  came  on  deck  the  yacht  was  running 
fast  through  a  sunlit  ocean  off  the  Isles  of  Shoals. 
Pauline  and  her  parents  did  not  appear,  and  Tom 
breakfasted  in  company  with  Parradym,  whose 
cheery,  rubicund  face  gave  no  hint  of  its  serious 
ness  upon  the  preceding  evening.  They  kept  well 
out  to  sea,  passed  "The  Rock"  shortly  after  lunch, 
and  at  the  same  time  made  landfall  of  the  hills  of 
Mt.  Desert,  which,  twenty  miles  away,  slowly  lifted 
their  great  backs  above  the  waves  like  huge  un 
dulating  sea-monsters.  To  the  eastward  the  irregu 
larly  indented  coast  of  Maine  stretched  away  until 
it  vanished  into  the  autumn  haze,  to  the  west 
the  horizon  was  spotted  with  purple  islands,  and 
before  them,  northward,  ever  loomed  larger  and 
larger  the  gray  mountains  that  had  guided  the 
great  Champlain,  and  the  no  less  adventurous  Du 
Guast  to  safe  harbors  among  their  fir-covered  head 
lands.  They  were  now  directly  in  the  lane  of  the 
coast  trade  between  Halifax  and  New  York,  and 
passed  many  a  lumber-laden  schooner,  her  gun- 
whales  almost  awash,  and  occasionally  a  smart 
fisherman  from  Belfast  or  Camden. 

Pauline  made  her  appearance  just  in  time  for 
afternoon  tea,  and  took  Parradym's  chaffing  with 


304       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

supreme  good  nature.  It  was  obvious  that  she 
did  not  intend  to  permit  the  incident  of  the  night 
before  to  affect  her  enjoyment  of  the  rest  of  the 
voyage,  and  there  was  something  in  her  manner 
which  said  to  Tom  as  plainly  as  if  she  had  spoken 
the  very  words:  "I  acted  like  a  little  fool  last  night ! 
Let  us  be  friends." 

Tom,  who  felt  not  altogether  blameless  in  the 
matter,  made  himself  as  agreeable  as  he  could,  and 
all  three  were  having  a  merry  time  of  it  by  the  time 
the  Pauline  had  turned  her  nose  into  Frenchman's 
Bay.  Tom,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  both  moun 
tains  and  seashore,  had  never  seen  anything  so 
beautiful  as  these  precipitous  hills  mantled  in  their 
autumn  coloring  which  seemed  to  rise  directly  from 
the  shadowed  waters  of  the  bay  to  where,  a  thousand 
feet  or  more  above,  their  barren  summits  broke  the 
rays  of  the  declining  sun.  The  sea  was  a  deep 
blue,  striped  here  and  there  with  opalescent  shades 
deepening  into  purple.  Green  islands,  almost  yellow- 
green  in  the  afternoon  light,  lay  all  about  them,  the 
channels  between  them  picked  out  by  the  flashing 
sails  of  yachts.  Deep  fiords  here  and  there  divided 
the  island,  offering  haven  for  fleets  of  war-ships. 
Small  racing-boats  manned  by  bronzed  girls  and  boys 
raced  across  their  bows.  Swift  launches  darted 
about  with  all  the  arbitrariness  of  water  insects;  the 
air  was  at  once  fresh  with  the  salt  of  the  sea,  and 
odoriferous  with  the  pine-laden  breath  of  the  near-by 
forests.  Ecstatically  Pauline  watched  the  white 
surf  creaming  over  the  red  rocks  along  the  shore 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       305 

of  the  " Ocean  Drive"  and  against  " Schooner 
Head"  as  the  yacht  glided  swiftly  by,  and  when 
they  entered  the  deep  shadow  cast  by  Newport 
Mountain,  and  could  see  high  above  them  the 
sunlight  blazing  through  the  pines  upon  its  ridge, 
and  beyond  the  shadow  the  gleaming  waters  of 
the  inner  bay  studded  with  small  green  islands,  she 
demanded  why  she  had  never  been  informed  that 
such  a  heavenly  place  existed  upon  earth,  and  de 
clared  that  she  would  never  live  anywhere  else. 

Presently  the  yacht  emerged  from  the  shadow 
of  the  mountain  into  the  sunlight,  and  rounding 
one  of  the  "Porcupines"  dropped  anchor  in  the 
harbor.  The  stimulating  air,  his  long  sleep  of 
the  night  before,  and  the  restful  day  spent  upon  the 
deck  of  the  Pauline  gave  Tom  a  sense  of  health 
and  moral  cleanliness  such  as  he  had  not  experi 
enced  for  weeks.  Moreover,  he  was  keenly  sensi 
tive  to  the  exquisite  beauty  of  their  surroundings, 
which,  together  with  Pauline's  friendliness,  made 
him  almost  happy.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Selby  joined 
them  soon  after  the  yacht  had  gained  the  shelter 
of  the  breakwater.  Tom  would  have  been  glad 
to  go  on  shore  at  once  to  stretch  his  legs  but  Pauline 
insisted  that  it  was  much  too  late,  and  made  it 
very  clear  that  she  wished  him  to  remain  with  her. 

Accordingly  they  strolled  up  and  down  the  deck 
watching  the  rapidly  lengthening  shadows  of  the 
hills  and  the  bald  summits  turning  from  bronze 
to  purple  and  then  to  gray,  as  the  sun  sank  over 
the  westward  ridges.  The  breeze  freshened.  Slowly 


306       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  stars  pierced  the  twilight,  and  presently,  even 
while  the  horizon  was  still  flooded  with  red  and 
orange  streamers,  the  yellow  moon  slowly  forced 
its  way  up  above  the  pines  of  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  bay,  until  the  channel  between  the  islands 
was  turned  to  undulating  gold. 

Tom  was  up  betimes  the  next  morning  in  a  sin 
gularly  care-free  frame  of  mind.  The  advice  of  his 
erstwhile  hostess,  as  well  as  Parradym's  discourse 
upon  matrimony,  had  faded  from  his  recollection. 
In  place  of  the  sharp  east  wind  of  the  previous 
afternoon  there  was  now  a  languorous  southwest 
breeze  which  enveloped  the  island  in  a  golden  haze. 
The  sun  beat  warm  upon  the  deck.  Clad  in  the 
immaculate  white  flannels  in  which  he  had  graced 
the  Casino  at  Newport,  Tom,  leaning  idly  against 
the  rail,  smoked  one  of  Pa  Selby's  after-breakfast 
cigars,  convinced  that  it  was  very  good  to  be  alive, 
especially  on  board  such  a  magnificent  steam- 
yacht  as  the  Pauline.  He  experienced  a  recru 
descence  of  those  original  feelings  on  his  first  morn 
ing  at  "Beausejour"  when  he  realized  that  he  was 
enjoying  for  nothing  that  which  others  had,  at  some 
distant  period  perhaps,  toiled  to  procure.  After 
all,  he  thought,  perhaps  he  had  been  too  hasty  in 
making  up  his  mind  to  let  Pauline  go  so  easily. 
Fascinating  as  Lulie  was,  a  matrimonial  adventure 
with  her  might  well  prove  unsatisfactory  in  the 
long  run.  There  was,  he  decided,  a  good  deal  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  playing  the  game  of  love  along 
the  lines  of  respectability. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       307 

If,  as  Parradym  had  urged — -nay,  had  even 
implored — him  to  believe,  marriage  was  a  sine  qua 
non  of  happiness,  could  he  do  better,  after  all,  than 
to  take  Pauline  ?  He  tried  to  think  of  her  detached 
from  her  millions,  and  succeeded  in  convincing  him 
self,  at  least  temporarily,  that  there  were  few  more 
charming  girls  to  be  found  anywhere.  Was  she  not 
beautiful,  or  at  least  exceedingly  pretty?  Was  she 
not  cheerful,  bright,  and  well  educated  ?  Indeed,  was 
she  not  far  and  away  the  most  attractive  young 
woman  that  he  had  met  that  summer  ?  Could  he,  in 
fact,  do  half  as  well  ?  Wasn't  it  rather  hard  on  a  girl 
to  throw  her  over  simply  because  she  was  burdened 
with  a  bank-account  which  was  no  fault  of  her 
own?  The  millions  would  not  do  any  harm.  On 
reconsidering  the  matter,  it  even  seemed  to  Tom 
that  they  might  be  of  some  slight  advantage.  With 
out  them,  certainly,  it  was  quite  unlikely  that  he 
could  indulge  in  the  pastime  of  yachting  which  he 
now  found  so  agreeable. 

He  made  up  his  mind  that  Parradym  had  really 
been  rather  disappointed  at  discovering  that  he  had 
not  proposed  to  Pauline.  Obviously  it  was  Lulie 
whom  Parry  was  worrying  about,  and  even  if  Pa 
and  Ma  Selby  were  not  to  the  manner  born,  were 
occasionally  guilty  of  slight  solecisms,  and  sometimes 
even  of  vulgarities,  they  were  far  and  away  prefer 
able  to  many  parents-in-law  that  he  had  seen  even 
at  Newport.  He  admitted  that,  in  his  first  excite 
ment,  he  might  have  indulged  in  rather  extravagant 
dreams  as  to  what  he  would  do  with  Pauline,  her 


308       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY  - 

money,  and  her  yacht,  after  he  had  annexed  them. 
The  idea  of  rushing  off  to  the  Ionian  Isles,  and  that 
sort  of  thing  was  obviously  ridiculous. 

As  he  gazed  through  the  smoke  of  his  cigar  at 
some  of  the  palatial  summer  residences  on  the  not 
far  distant  shore,  he  concluded  that  the  thing  for 
him  to  do  after  marrying  Pauline  was  to  buy  a  few 
acres  on  the  water-front  and  build  a  modest  resi 
dence  with  a  private  landing,  where  he  could  keep 
a  launch  or  two  and  a  knock-about.  He  was  too 
active  to  go  floating  around  the  world  without 
any  exercise,  drinking  champagne  and  playing 
bridge.  That  could  come  later.  For  the  present 
they  could  spend  their  winters  in  a  comfortable 
apartment  in  New  York,  and  their  summers  at  Bar 
Harbor,  where  he  could  take  up  golf,  become  the 
champion  tennis-player  of  Mt.  Desert,  and  inciden 
tally  give  Pauline  all  the  opportunity  she  wished 
for  society. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  these  reflections  when  he 
heard  his  name  called  in  a  boyish  voice  from  be 
low. 

"Oh,  you  Kelly!"  it  cried. 

A  canoe  containing  a  tow-headed  youth  had 
stolen  up  past  the  Pauline's  stern,  and  its  occupant 
was  now  gently  holding  its  nose  to  the  wind  while 
making  vigorous  contortions  of  joy  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Tom,  who  had  difficulty  in  recognizing  this 
friendly  stranger  since  his  face  and  bare  arms  were 
burned  so  brown  as  to  be  almost  black. 

"It's  me,  you  lobster!  Crowninshield!" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       309 

"Hello,  Dick!"  shouted  back  Tom.  "Thought 
you  were  a  nigger.  Had  breakfast  yet?" 

"Four  hours  ago,"  answered  Crowninshield,  who 
had  now  brought  the  canoe  to  a  point  directly  be 
neath  Tom.  "What  do  you  think  I  am,  a  gilded 
loafer?  What  are  you  doing  up  there  anyway?" 

"Yachting,"  retorted  Tom  loftily,  annoyed  that 
Dick  should  not  have  heard  of  his  distinguished 
career  at  Newport. 

"Ain't  you  the  swell  though?"  continued  Crown 
inshield.  "You  look  as  if  you  had  just  stepped 
out  of  a  department  store.  Put  on  a  sweater  and 
come  for  a  paddle  with  me." 

"I'm  sorry,"  replied  Tom,  "but  I  have  an  en 
gagement  at  the  Casino." 

"  i  Swimming-pool/  I  suppose  you  mean,"  sniffed 
Dick.  "We  don't  have  Casinos  down  here  in  Maine. 
We  leave  'em  for  the  Newport  chappies.  How  long 
you  going  to  stay?" 

"I  really  don't  know,"  answered  Tom  from  above. 
"I  believe  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Selby  expect  to  stay  about 
a  week." 

At  that  moment  he  felt  a  curious  superiority  to 
his  former  friend  and  clubmate.  Ever  since  he  had 
entered  college,  particularly  during  his  Woolsack 
period  and  up  to  his  experience  at  Newport,  Tom 
had  always  regarded  Dick  as  a  tremendous  swell, 
his  family  one  of  those  whom  Tom  had  been 
brought  up  to  regard  with  an  almost  religious  awe. 
His  two  months  at  Newport,  however,  had  changed 
his  point  of  view  completely.  To  the  now  elegant 


310      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

and  cosmopolitan  Kelly  his  provincial  Bostonian 
friend  seemed  a  person  of  very  little  consequence, 
virtuous  perhaps,  but  not  at  all  interesting.  And 
yet  it  was  not  this  attitude  which  caused  him  to 
hesitate,  as  he  was  hesitating,  to  invite  Dick  on 
board  the  yacht.  It  was  rather  the  subcutaneous 
suspicion  that  while  he,  Tom,  was  quite  satisfied 
with  the  change  in  himself  which  the  two  months 
had  wrought,  his  friend  might  have  a  more  critical 
attitude.  He  was  not  obtuse  to  the  contrast  between 
the  brown  muscularity  of  the  lad  in  the  canoe  and 
his  own  sleek  puffiness  due  to  high  living.  It  was 
different  at  Newport.  Everybody  was  the  same 
down  there.  But  his  old  chum  looked  as  if  he  kept 
in  training  all  the  year  round.  Somehow  Tom  did 
not  fancy  the  idea  of  Dick  looking  him  over,  and 
perhaps  saying  in  his  rough,  blunt  way:  "Getting 
fat,  aren't  you,  old  top?" 

The  fact  could  not  be  dodged  that  "old  top"  had 
been  getting  fat.  If  he  had,  however,  it  was  none 
of  Dick's  business. 

"Saw  in  the  paper  that  Calkins  wiped  up  the 
ground  with  you  in  the  fourth  round  of  the  In 
ternational  Tournament,"  continued  his  clubmate 
somewhat  severely.  "I  lost  ten  dollars  on  you, 
curse  you !  We  were  all  betting  here  that  you 
would  be  f  runner-up J  at  least.  What  was  the 
matter  with  you?" 

"The  better  man  won,"  said  Tom,  with  an  echo 
of  the  grandiloquence  with  which  he  had  offered 
his  hand  to  Calkins  at  the  Casino  after  his  defeat. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       311 

"Too  much  lush,  /  guess !"  growled  the  boy  in 
the  canoe.  "I  was  afraid  of  it  in  Cambridge.  You 
were  crooking  your  elbow  an  awful  lot,  long  before 
Class  Day." 

Tom  made  no  reply  to  this  insult.  In  fact  there 
was  none  to  be  made.  It  was  "lush"  that  had  done 
it,  and  he  knew  it.  He  also  knew  that  "lush"  was 
still  doing  it,  but  in  spite  of  his  intolerant  and  rather 
insolent  attitude,  there  was  a  friendliness  about 
Crowninshield  that  kept  Tom  from  taking  offense. 
He  began  to  reconsider  his  decision  not  to  invite 
Dick  to  come  aboard.  Still  uncertain  as  to  his 
course  in  the  matter,  he  temporized  by  demanding 
sharply : 

"What  are  you  doing  around  here  yourself?" 

"Oh,  tutoring,"  answered  the  crewman.  "Got 
two  sub-freshman  brats  over  at  Seal  Harbor.  Mother 
pays  me  twenty-five  a  week  to  act  as  dry  nurse. 
They're  not  bad  kids,  though.  One  of  them  can 
pitch  an  incurve  that  would  puzzle  old  'Slide'  Kelly 
—your  namesake.  It  isn't  bad  fun,  if  you  like  boys. 
Besides  I'm  boning  up  for  the  law  school.  Going 
to  try  to  do  three  years'  work  in  two,  so  I  can  get 
married  a  year  sooner.  Knew  I  was  engaged,  didn't 
you?  No?  Well,  I  am.  To  Becky  Chase.  You 
met  her  on  Class  Day." 

Tom  had  met  her,  a  red-cheeked,  rather  robust, 
and  very  Bostonese  young  lady,  whose  father  was 
the  clergyman  of  a  small  church  in  Milton.  He 
was  about  to  formulate  some  congratulatory  re 
mark  of  a  properly  elegant  character  when  he  heard 


312       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  swish  of  a  skirt,  and  Pauline  joined  him  at  the 
rail. 

"Miss  Selby,  allow  me  to  present  my  friend,  Mr. 
Richard  Crowninshield,"  said  Tom  in  a  dignified 
manner. 

The  tow-headed  crewman  grinned  at  Pauline  and 
waved  his  hand. 

"How  d'y'do!"  he  called  up.  "Saw  your  yacht 
come  in  yesterday  afternoon,  and  so  I  paddled  over 
from  Seal  Harbor  this  morning  to  look  her  over. 
Didn't  expect  to  find  Tom  here." 

He  gazed  at  Pauline  admiringly. 

"She's  a  beauty!"  he  remarked  with  some  am 
biguity,  looking  at  Tom. 

"Won't  you  come  on  board,  Mr.  Crowninshield?" 
asked  Pauline.  "We  should  be  delighted  to  see 
any  of  Mr.  Kelly's  friends." 

"I  don't  mind,"  answered  Crowninshield. 

Paddling  toward  the  companionway,  which  was 
situated  some  fifty  feet  farther  forward,  he  tied 
the  canoe  to  one  of  the  brass  stanchions  and  sprang 
lightly  up  the  steps,  with  an  elasticity  and  verve 
that  filled  Tom  with  envy. 

He  was  rather  shocked  at  his  friend's  clothing, 
which  consisted  apparently  of  a  sleeveless  jersey, 
white  duck  trousers  fastened  with  a  narrow  leather 
belt,  and  a  pair  of  white  sneakers  into  which  his 
feet  were  thrust  through  heavy  gray  knitted 
woollen  socks.  Tom  suspected  that  he  had  nothing 
else  on  at  all.  Crowninshield  looked  in  fact  more 
like  one  of  the  crew  of  the  Pauline  in  a  moment  of 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       313 

relaxation  than  a  collegian,  although  in  face  and 
figure  he  resembled  a  young  Viking. 

Pauline  was  obviously  much  struck  with  their 
visitor  and  insisted,  to  Tom's  annoyance,  on  taking 
him  over  the  boat.  The  two  were  gone  some  time, 
during  which  Tom  ruminated  on  the  fickleness  of 
womankind. 


XXVI 

"WHAT  a  nice  boy !"  exclaimed  Pauline,  as  Dick, 
with  a  final  wave  of  his  paddle,  drove  the  canoe 
bounding  toward  the  breakwater.  "So  intelligent 
and  good-looking !" 

"Yes — bully  fellow!"  responded  Tom,  without 
enthusiasm.  Somehow  Crowninshield's  unexpected 
arrival  had  put  his  nose  out  of  joint.  He  hadn't 
at  all  liked  the  way  Pauline  had  started  right  into 
run  after  the  fellow.  But  Dick  had  been  just  as 
bad.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  had  been  smitten. 
Well,  anyhow,  he  was  safely  tied  up — engaged  to 
that  yellow-haired  doll  in  Milton,  compared  with 
whom  Pauline  was  a  goddess — yes,  a  goddess ! 
Of  course,  she'd  make  a  hit  at  Bar  Harbor,  and 
there'd  be  a  dozen  fellows  after  her.  If  he  was 
going  to  do  anything  it  was  high  time — before  her 
attention  became  distracted.  She  would  be  a  won 
derful  girl — even  if  she  didn't  have  a  cent.  Indeed, 
she  would !  And  she  had  the  money  besides. 
Wouldn't  he  be  a  fool  to  throw  her  away?  He 
turned  and  gave  her  a  naval  salute. 

"Well,  commander!"  he  said,  "Shall  I  order  the 
launch  to  take  us  ashore?" 

Tom  had  been  under  no  misapprehension  about 
Pauline's  making  a  hit  at  Bar  Harbor.  Indeed, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       315 

she  was  surrounded  by  a  horde  of  very  young  men 
from  the  moment  she  placed  her  foot  upon  the 
Dirigo  Landing  stage,  and  Tom  and  Parradym 
found  themselves  shoved  entirely  into  the  back 
ground  by  an  eager  band  of  young  suitors,  who 
swarmed  over  the  yacht  at  all  hours  and  rushed 
Pauline  by  carriage  across  the  island  to  distant  in 
accessible  spots  for  afternoon  walks  and  moonlight 
picnics.  Tom,  in  fact,  began  for  the  first  time  to 
feel  a  slight  tinge  of  jealousy  at  Pauline's  ready 
neglect.  Moreover,  he  was  forced  more  than  was 
agreeable  to  content  himself  with  the  society  of 
Pa  and  Ma  Selby,  whose  banal  conversation  soon 
drove  him  to  seek  refuge  in  solitary  walks  upon  the 
shore.  He  decided  that  he  was  being  placed  in  a 
rather  ridiculous  position  and  after  twelve  days 
of  semiboredom  proposed  to  Pauline  that  they 
should  climb  a  mountain  together. 

It  was  a  cloudless  autumn  morning,  and  in  the 
translucent  atmosphere  the  distant  mountain-tops 
seemed  close  at  hand,  and  following  a  well-marked 
path  over  a  pine-covered  spur,  they  soon  climbed 
to  where  the  town  and  harbor  seemed  to  be  lying  at 
their  very  feet.  There,  too,  at  her  mooring  lay  the 
Pauline.  The  air  was  full  of  the  soft,  fragrant  smell 
of  pine-needles  and  sunburnt  moss.  Above  them 
an  eagle  hung,  a  dark  speck  against  the  deep  blue 
of  the  sky's  arc.  Pauline  sat  down  to  rest  for  a 
moment  upon  a  ledge  of  rock,  stained  with  lichen, 
from  whose  moss-grown  crevices  peeped  tiny  flowers. 
Eastward  the  Atlantic  rose  against  the  white  hori- 


316       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

zon,  here  patched  with  windless  spots,  there  flur 
ried  with  catspaws.  It  was  a  soundless,  motionless 
world,  save  for  the  flicker  of  a  few  small  birds  among 
the  yellow  birches  and  scarlet  sumacs.  Nature 
was  resting.  In  the  lazy  morning  sunlight  she  was 
luxuriating  after  her  summer,  and  drowsily  lying 
without  even  drawing  breath.  The  air  had  that 
warmth  and  yet  that  freshness  that  at  once  sends 
a  glow  to  the  heart  and  thrills  the  senses.  The 
leaves  had  not  yet  fallen.  On  the  near-by  moun 
tainsides  the  background  of  the  evergreens  was 
mottled  with  irregular  patches  of  brown,  of  purplish 
red,  of  rose — picked  out  here  and  there  with  one 
golden  gleam  of  a  single  tree  or  one  drop  of  scarlet 
blood. 

Presently  Pauline  silently  arose  and  began  fol 
lowing  the  path  again.  Soon  they  reached  the 
crest  of  the  nearest  ridge,  and  they  could  see  be 
hind  them  all  the  blue  waters  of  Frenchman's  Bay, 
dotted  with  spruce-covered  islands.  The  hills  lay 
all  around  them,  their  tumbled  outlines  fixed  in 
a  wrinkled  smile.  To  the  west  lay  sixty  miles  of 
coast,  island  outlying  island,  with  dim,  distant 
shapes  of  islands  still  beyond,  bounded  by  the 
misty  ghosts  of  vague  hills  to  the  northward  and 
the  still,  even  line  of  the  horizon  to  the  south.  Along 
this  moved  almost  imperceptible  little  dots — the 
markers  of  ocean  traffic  along  the  great  highway 
from  Cape  Sable  to  Pollock  Rip. 

As  Tom  gazed  about  him  he  could  not  but  marvel 
at  the  glory  of  nature.  It  was,  as  Parradym  had 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       317 

said  that  very  first  evening  at  Newport, — immortal. 
There  was  no  note  of  death  in  this  radiance  of  the 
visible  world;  it  was  the  blush  of  health,  not  the 
iridescence  of  decay — the  leap  of  sap  at  the  first 
touch  of  frost. 

A  kind  of  exaltation  stole  over  Tom,  and  his 
dormant  spirit,  submerged  in  materialism,  raised 
itself  in  response  to  the  beauty  about  him.  Here 
on  this  mountain-top  the  world  lay  at  his  feet — 
a  radiant  world.  As  he  inhaled  deep  breaths  of 
the  keen  autumn  air,  his  heart  thumped  against 
his  ribs  with  the  unaccustomed  exertion  of  climb 
ing,  and  the  blood  tingled  in  his  fingers  and  toes. 
He  felt  gloriously  alive — for  the  first  time  in  months; 
strong  with  the  resilient  virility  of  youth;  and  for 
an  instant  saw  the  vision  that  youth  only  glimpses 
—followed  the  glean  until  it  vanished  over  "the 
uttermost  purple  rim."  What  a  world!  What 
ecstasy  to  be  young — young  as  in  truth  he  was, 
like  Crowninshield !  He  wanted  to  shout  across 
the  valleys  to  the  neighboring  ridges,  to  hurl  in 
anities  against  some  echoing  cliff,  to  stretch  up  his 
arms  and  clutch  that  hovering  eagle  from  the 
clouds,  to  push  some  huge  boulder  from  its  pre 
historic  bed,  and  roll  it  down  the  mountainside. 
He  did,  in  fact,  attempt  to  throw  a  dozen  or  so  of 
small  rocks  into  the  ravine  beneath  them  and  was 
rather  disappointed  to  find  how  far  short  they  fell 
of  their  goal.  Having  worked  off  his  superfluous 
energy,  he  sat  down  again  to  a  calmer  appreciation 
of  the  scene  around  him.  Pauline  was  resting  upon 


3i8       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

a  neighboring  ledge,  her  full  young  bosom  rising  and 
falling  rapidly.  Seen  sharply  in  profile  against  the 
sky-line,  her  neck  and  chin  bore  a  grotesque  resem 
blance  to  her  mother's.  The  discovery  distressed 
Tom,  coming  as  it  did  just  as  his  soul  was  quiver 
ing  with  romance. 

While  his  spirit  eye  flashed  across  the  smoulder 
ing  ocean  to  the  opalescent  cloud-banks  on  the 
eastern  horizon,  his  material  eye  fixed  itself  rather 
critically  upon  the  proposed  object  of  his  affections. 
Yes,  she  certainly  did  look  like  her  mother — the 
line  from  the  point  of  her  chin  to  the  little  curl  be 
tween  the  cords  on  the  back  of  her  neck  was  too 
long,  much  too  long.  But  that  wasn't  her  mother's; 
the  neck  was  Pa  Selby's !  Not  that  it  mattered 
particularly  whether  a  girl  looked  like  her  mother 
or  her  father,  only  Tom  had  always  recognized  the 
fact  that  Pa  Selby  had  a  rather  undesirable  neck. 
In  its  mature  and  completely  developed  state  it 
was  equipped  with  two  small  rolls  of  fatty  tissue 
on  the  back.  Of  course  Pauline  wouldn't  ever 
be  like  that,  but  the  realization  that  she  had  any 
thing  at  all  of  her  father  about  her  was  like  having 
a  skeleton  at  his  feast. 

She  looked  around  at  Tom  just  at  that  moment, 
conscious  that  he  was  gazing  at  her,  and  smiled 
frankly  at  him.  She  was  a  nice  girl,  even  if  she  did 
look  like  her  father  and  mother.  But  the  altera 
tion  of  her  position  produced  another  unfortunate 
result,  disclosing  as  it  did  a  row  of  tiny  beads  of 
perspiration  upon  her  upper  lip  and  forehead.  At 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       319 

any  other  time  or  on  any  other  girl  the  natural 
result  of  physical  exercise  would  not  have  affected 
Tom  unpleasantly,  but  coming  upon  the  heels  of 
his  appreciation  of  her  resemblance  to  her  paternal 
parent,  it  discomfited  him.  He  would,  under  the 
circumstances,  have  hesitated  to  kiss  her. 

But  Pauline  saw  only  adoration  in  Tom's  glance, 
and  she  blushed  quite  prettily  and  cast  down  her 
eyes.  It  is  doubtless  too  much  to  assert  that  of 
themselves  these  trivial  physical  facts  would  have 
altered  the  course  of  Tom's  entire  future  life.  Hav 
ing  made  up  his  mind  to  marry  into  the  Selby  fam 
ily,  he  would  probably  have  carried  out  his  pur 
pose — even  with  the  additional  discovery,  inevitably 
apparent  under  the  noonday  glare,  that  Pauline's 
upper  lip  was  covered  with  a  slight  down.  Tom 
had  never  kissed  Pauline.  He  had  never  really 
wished  to  kiss  her.  And  now,  although  he  knew 
perfectly  well  that  she  was  ready  to  fall  into  his 
arms,  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  the  idea  of  kissing 
her  was  distasteful — would  require  an  effort.  As 
she  sat  there  "hunched  up"  on  the  rock,  she  gave 
an  impression  of  being  rather  pudgy.  After  all, 
Parry  had  probably  been  right  that  time  when  he 
had  declared  the  whole  sex  business  was  over 
played.  There  they  were  alone  in  a  beautiful  place 
— surrounded  by  the  mountains,  the  sea,  and  the 
sky.  He  might  as  well  get  it  over  with.  He  felt 
quite  clear  that  he  wanted  to  put  the  business 
through,  no  matter  what !  Pauline  might  not  be 
a  pocket  Venus,  but  she  was  an  almighty  pretty 


320       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

girl,  and  Lulie  was  out  of  the  question  for  several 
conclusive  reasons.  His  heart  began  to  thump 
violently,  and  the  blood  surged  up  into  his  ears 
and  eyes,  not  from  emotion,  but  from  excitement. 
He  dimly  heard  himself  clear  his  throat  and  say: 

"Pauline — I — I  want  to  say  something  to  you!" 

He  saw  her  turn  a  darker  red.  He  had  difficulty 
in  forcing  himself  to  go  on,  for  he  felt  like  a  house 
breaker.  She  was  such  an  easy  mark.  But  two 
millions !  She  was  looking  away  from  him  with 
a  studied  air  of  unconsciousness. 

"You  know,"  he  continued,  "I " 

He  stopped  abruptly.  From  above  came  the 
sound  of  voices  and  the  rattle  of  displaced  stones. 
Two  strangers  were  approaching  along  the  path. 
Pauline  raised  her  head  impatiently.  The  climbers 
were  now  in  plain  view,  striding  swiftly  toward 
them.  Obviously,  it  was  no  time  for  him  to  clasp 
Pauline's  well-developed  figure  in  his  arms  and 
press  her  downy  cheek  to  his.  There  would  of 
necessity  have  to  be  a  short  intermission  in  the 
programme.  Then  the  interrupted  act  could  go 
on.  He  experienced  an  extraordinary  sense  of  re 
lief.  He  wondered  if  people  who  were  going  to  be 
hanged  felt  like  that  when  they  were  reprieved. 

"Somebody's  coming!"  he  remarked,  throwing 
into  his  voice  a  note  of  disgust  which  he  by  no 
means  felt. 

"Yes,"  replied  Pauline  wearily. 

The  climbers  were  now  almost  upon  them.  Tom 
arose  and  lit  a  cigarette  with  a  degage  air,  then 


THE  WORLD   AND   THOMAS  KELLY       321 

struck  a  picturesque  pose  as  a  girl  came  bounding 
up  the  path. 

" Why,  Tom!" 

He  turned  quickly  to  find  himself  confronted 
by  Evelyn,  her  hand  outstretched,  a  smile  upon  her 
face.  She  was  clad  in  dark-brown  khaki,  and  wore 
walking-breeches  covered  by  a  short  skirt,  beneath 
which  Tom  could  see  a  pair  of  slender,  brown- 
stockinged  calves  terminating  in  two  small  moc 
casins.  Around  her  neck  was  a  bright-red,  loosely 
knotted,  flowing  tie  that  appeared  to  reflect  the  color 
in  her  dark-olive  cheeks.  To  Tom  she  seemed  like 
a  lithesome  youth,  a  beautiful  boy — some  cupbearer 
of  the  gods.  His  heart  gave  a  single  great  leap. 

"Tom!  Whoever  expected  to  meet  you  here! 
Dad!  It's  Tom  Kelly!" 

She  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her  pleasure. 
As  for  poor,  jaded  Tom  it  was  like  suddenly  stum 
bling  upon  an  ice-cold,  limpid  spring  in  the  midst 
of  an  arid  plain. 

"Evelyn!"  he  cried,  eagerly  wringing  her  hand. 

"Pew  tooth!" 

"Pew  tooth  yourself!" 

They  carolled  joyously  at  this  mystic  counter 
sign,  and  Pauline  looked  around  at  them  almost 
as  if  annoyed. 

"Oh,  Pauline!"  There  was  an  unaccustomed 
freshness  in  Tom's  voice — a  new  note.  "Miss 
Selby,  I  want  to  present  Miss  Russell." 

Evelyn  crossed  to  where  Pauline  was  sitting  and 
offered  her  hand. 


322       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"How  do  you  do?"  she  said  cordially. 

Pauline  took  the  hand  without  arising  from  her 
rock.  There  was  something  about  this  young 
Hebe  that  she  instinctively  did  not  like. 

"How  do  you  do?"  she  remarked  stiffly.  "Ex 
cuse  my  not  getting  up  1" 

At  that  moment  Professor  Russell  joined  them 
and,  after  greeting  Tom,  was  likewise  presented 
to  Miss  Selby,  who  made  it  quite  apparent  that 
she  was  rather  bored  by  the  whole  incident.  Evelyn 
and  her  father,  however,  were  clearly  delighted  at 
meeting  Tom,  and  charmed  at  being  introduced 
to  Miss  Selby.  Tom  somehow  vaguely  resented 
the  fact  that  Evelyn  accepted  his  being  alone  upon 
a  mountain-top  with  a  young  lady  quite  as  a  matter 
of  course.  He  would  have  preferred  to  have  her 
take  it  more  as  Pauline  had  done.  It  appeared 
that  the  Russells  were  staying  at  Seal  Harbor,  and 
were  enjoying  their  annual  week's  tramp  over  the 
hills  of  Mt.  Desert  before  the  opening  of  the  uni 
versity.  They  had  started  before  sunrise,  had 
climbed  Sargeant,  crossed  "The  Bubbles"  to  Eagle 
Lake  and  Green  Mountain,  and  were  now  about  to 
descend  its  southern  ridge,  returning  home  by  way 
of  Jordan's  Pond — a  ten-hour  trip.  The  mere  re 
cital  of  the  undertaking  filled  Tom  with  astonish 
ment  and  Pauline  with  fatigue.  The  Russells  had 
followed  Tom's  career  in  the  National  Tournament 
with  interest,  and  had  been  greatly  disappointed  at 
its  early  blight. 

He  watched  them  disappear  up  the  mountainside 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS   KELLY       323 

with  regret.  He  would  have  liked  to  go  along  with 
them — get  hold  of  the  professor  for  a  good  long 
talk,  and  chuck  Pauline  entirely.  It  seemed  ages 
since  that  evening  at  the  little  house  on  Appian 
Way.  He  wondered  what  had  become  of  Frank 
True,  and  felt  a  stab  at  his  heart  as  he  recalled 
the  humiliating  experiences  of  Class  Day.  Well, 
plainly  Evelyn  bore  him  no  resentment.  Instinc 
tively  he  contrasted  her  trim  figure  and  agile  men 
tality  with  the  ample  proportions  and  slower 
intellectual  processes  of  his  companion.  What  a 
corking  girl  she  was !  All  the  virtues  of  Pauline 
combined  with  the  fire  and  cleverness  of  Lulie. 
Well,  he'd  lost  his  chance,  such  as  it  was.  Par- 
radym's  words,  the  first  night  out,  came  back  to 
his  mind:  "If  you  ever  meet  a  girl  you  love — in 
the  right  way — go  after  her — through  fire  and 
water,  if  need  be,  and  don't  let  up  until  you  get 
her,  or  you're  dead."  He  sighed.  If  he'd  only 
known  as  much  about  woman  then  as  he  did  now ! 
It  was  too  late.  But  that  was  the  kind  of  girl  one 
could  love — in  the  right  way !  He  turned  to  dis 
cover  Pauline  gazing  at  him  suspiciously. 

"Who  was  your  young  friend?"  she  inquired. 

"Oh,  a  girl  I  used  to  know  in  Cambridge,"  he 
answered  carelessly. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  several  minutes.  The 
unexpected  appearance  of  the  Russells  had  pro 
duced  a  sudden  change  in  the  atmosphere.  The 
temperature  had  distinctly  lowered.  The  words 
Tom  had  uttered  seemed  to  have  been  still-born. 


324       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Yet  the  girl  lingered,  evidently  still  hoping  that 
he  might  speak. 

"Well,"  he  remarked  when  the  silence  had  at 
length  become  embarrassing,  "what  do  you  think, 
shall  we  go  on  down  again?" 

Pauline  made  one  last  effort. 

"You  were  just  going  to  say  something  when 
your  friends  came  along,"  she  reminded  him. 
"What  was  it?" 

It  was  a  blatant  challenge,  unmaidenly  per 
haps,  but,  let  us  hope,  excusable. 

Tom  looked  at  her  blankly.  Then  he  took  out 
his  gold  case,  offered  it  to  her,  and  lit  a  cigarette 
as  if  trying  hard  to  remember  something. 

"Was  I?"  he  asked  in  a  puzzled  fashion.  "I 
haven't  the  remotest  idea  what  I  was  going  to 
say." 

The  return  trip  of  the  yacht  was  accomplished 
without  incident,  and  she  dropped  her  anchor  in 
the  East  River  with  the  relations  of  Pauline  and 
Tom  still,  so  far  at  least  as  the  girl  was  concerned, 
in  statu  quo.  Whatever  it  was  that  had  choked 
off  Tom's  proposal  upon  the  mountain  still  operated 
effectually  to  gag  him.  Pauline  herself  had  not 
offered  him  any  further  opportunity.  She  had 
assumed  an  air  of  indifference.  She  was  in  fact 
listless  and  miserable. 

"Didn't  he  speak  to  you?"  had  demanded  her 
mother,  on  their  return  to  the  yacht. 

Pauline  shook  her  head. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       325 

"He  didn't  and  he  won't!"  she  answered  dis 
consolately.  "Something's  come  over  him." 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!"  retorted  Ma 
Selby  with  a  maternal  resentment.  "I  should  have 
thought  he  would  have  just  jumped  at  such  a  chance. 
Of  course,  he  will  soon.  All  he  needs  is  a  little 
help.  Young  men  never  know  just  how  to  go  about 
a  thing  like  that.  Why  I  had  to  ask  your  pa,  my 
self!" 

Mr.  Selby  was  even  more  outspoken.  The  young 
jackanapes!  Had  he  popped  yet?  What  did  he 
think  they'd  asked  him  off  on  the  yacht  for,  any 
how?  He'd  stir  him  up,  he  would.  Of  course,  it 
was  just  laziness.  At  this  Pauline,  however,  pro 
tested  vigorously.  There  was  no  use  trying  to  force 
people,  and,  after  all,  she  had  only  known  Tom  two 
months.  He  was  a  dear  boy,  but  she  could  get 
on  without  him  if  need  be.  They  must  promise 
to  leave  the  whole  thing  to  her.  And  this  they 
somewhat  reluctantly  did. 

Tom  had  written  to  his  mother  from  Bar  Harbor 
that  he  expected  to  look  for  a  position  in  New  York, 
and  that  as  soon  as  he  should  be  successful  he  would 
run  on  to  Boston  to  see  her.  Meantime,  he  said, 
his  address  would  be  "The  Waldorf"  where  the 
Selbys  had  an  apartment,  and  where  they  had  asked 
him  to  come  to  them  for  a  few  days  at  the  end  of 
the  cruise.  As  nothing  had  occurred  which  would 
justify  the  withdrawal  of  this  invitation,  and  as 
both  Pauline's  parents,  whatever  may  have  been 
that  young  lady's  private  opinion,  confidently  ex- 


326      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

pected  Tom  to  make  good  at  an  early  date,  no 
reason  existed  for  any  change  of  plan.  This  was 
indeed  a  fortunate  solution  of  Tom's  difficulties, 
since  he  was  entirely  devoid  of  funds,  and  would 
otherwise  have  been  obliged  to  seek  shelter  with 
Mrs.  Jones  at  Roslyn. 

Tom  accordingly  arrived  at  the  Waldorf  under 
circumstances  which  might  well  have  induced  the 
belief  that  he  was,  or  at  least  was  about  to  become, 
a  permanent  adjunct  of  the  Selby  menage,  a  con 
summation  which  in  the  eyes  of  the  clerks,  head- 
waiters,  hall-boys,  bartenders,  porters,  and  other 
attendants  was  devoutly  to  be  wished  and  which 
rendered  him  an  object  of  their  tenderest  regard. 
For  Pa  Selby  was  well-known  at  the  hostelry,  not 
only  as  a  distributor  of  fabulous  largess,  but  as 
a  giver  of  tips  upon  the  market  which  had  enabled 
more  than  one  employee  to  retire  upon  a  fixed  in 
come. 

A  smiling  valet  welcomed  Tom  to  a  suite  di 
rectly  across  the  hall  from  the  apartment  occupied 
by  the  Selbys.  His  evening  clothes  were  already 
laid  out  in  faultless  order  upon  the  bed,  and  a  bath 
was  ready  for  him  in  the  adjacent  white-tiled  bath 
room.  There  was  even  a  tiny  sitting-room  with 
upholstered  chairs  and  a  mahogany  table,  upon 
which  under  a  Tiffany  glass  lamp  had  been  placed 
the  evening  papers.  It  was,  he  thought,  almost 
as  "swell"  as  "Beausejour."  He  bathed,  dressed 
with  luxurious  deliberation,  and,  having  a  few 
minutes  to  spare  before  the  dinner  hour,  bethought 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       327 

him  of  calling  up  Lulie's  apartment,  of  which  she 
had  given  him  the  number,  on  the  chance  of  finding 
her  in  New  York.  Rather  to  his  surprise  she  an 
swered  the  telephone  herself  and,  to  his  relief,  he 
discerned  nothing  in  her  tone  to  indicate  that  she 
resented  his  having  abandoned  her  to  go  yachting 
with  his  present  host.  The  sound  of  her  low  voice 
over  the  wire  thrilled  him  as  it  had  done  the  first 
evening  that  he  had  met  her  at  the  Scotts'.  She 
had  found  herself  lonely  at  Newport,  she  told  him, 
and  returned  to  the  city  for  the  autumn.  Lonely 
for  whom?  Perhaps  he  could  guess.  Anyhow, 
telephones  were  such  horrid,  public  things! 
Wouldn't  he  come  up  to  see  her  at  her  apartment 
that  evening?  She  was  tired  and  wasn't  going  out. 
Tom,  who  had  business  to  talk  over  with  Mr.  Selby, 
for  once  permitted  discretion  to  prevail  over  in 
clination,  and  invited  her  to  dine  and  go  to  the 
play  with  him  the  following  evening  instead.  Then 
with  a  few  whispered  partings — so  low  that  even 
an  experienced  telephone-girl  would  have  had  dif 
ficulty  in  interpreting  them — he  hung  up  the  re 
ceiver,  his  veins  throbbing  riotously. 

The  Selbys  were  on  the  point  of  going  down  to 
dinner  when  he  joined  them  in  their  elaborate  draw 
ing-room.  Tom,  who  had  never  been  in  a  big  New 
York  hotel  before,  was  amazed  and  even  rather 
dazzled  at  the  crowds  of  people,  the  lights  and  the 
noise,  and  it  is  probable  that  he  might  have  felt 
somewhat  ill  at  ease  had  he  not  been  personally 
conducted  by  Mr.  Selby,  who  was  received  by  the 


328       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

head  waiter  with  magnificent,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  affectionate,  distinction.  With  an  all-embrac 
ing  wave  of  his  hand,  intended  to  indicate  that 
whatever  they  saw  was  theirs,  he  led  the  way  to 
an  orchid-decked  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
simultaneously  inquiring  with  solicitude  after  the 
health  of  Monsieur,  Madame  and  Mademoiselle 
Selbee.  Pauline's  drooping  spirits  seemed  to  re 
vive  in  this  friendly  atmosphere  like  withering 
flowers  under  a  warm  rain.  Evidently  she  was 
quite  at  home  in  hotels,  and  a  general  favorite  in 
this  one.  She  chatted  familiarly  with  the  "  Cap 
tain,"  who  took  their  order,  about  various  Al- 
phonses,  Pierres,  and  Victors,  and  ordered  special 
dishes,  her  penchant  for  which  was  obviously  well- 
known  to  him.  Before  long  she  had  engaged  the 
almost  undivided  attention  of  five  waiters,  had  or 
dered  a  window  opened  and  the  door  closed.  But 
the  readiness  with  which  all  her  demands  were  ac 
ceded  to  was  fully  explained  by  the  size  of  the  bill 
which  Mr.  Selby  left  beside  his  finger-bowl  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  meal.  Once  more  Tom  congratu 
lated  himself  that  he  was  getting  a  free  ride.  He 
wondered  what  the  cost  of  a  dinner  could  be  when 
you  gave  the  waiter  five  dollars  at  the  end  of  it. 
Glancing  stealthily  at  the  menu  under  the  guise  of 
selecting  a  dessert,  he  rapidly  calculated  that  they 
had  certainly  eaten  at  least  thirty  dollars'  worth. 
If  he  was  going  to  keep  up  his  end  with  Lulie  he 
would  have  to  begin  to  get  busy ! 

They  left  the  table,  the  ladies  carrying  with  them 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       329 

most  of  the  decorations  which  had  been  pressed 
upon  them  by  the  attendants,  and  Mr.  Selby  sug 
gested  that  Tom  and  he  should  have  their  coffee 
in  the  foyer,  where  they  could  see  "all  the  folks." 
Accordingly  they  strolled  through  "Peacock  Alley," 
where  Tom  secured  his  first  glimpse  of  that  be 
wildering  concatenation  of  humanity  which  makes 
a  New  York  hotel  one  of  the  most  interesting  places 
upon  the  globe,  and  finally  came  to  anchor  in  the 
cafe,  where  the  waiter  brought  Mr.  Selby  his  own 
special  box  of  cigars  from  the  "humidor." 

Mr.  Selby  had  been  carefully  considering  the 
problem  of  Tom's  relations  to  Pauline  ever  since 
the  yacht  had  left  from  Bar  Harbor,  and  had  con 
cluded  that  the  secret  of  Tom's  hesitancy  lay  in 
the  fact  that  as  yet  he,  as  prospective  father-in- 
law,  had  said  nothing  definite  regarding  the  ma 
terial  future.  He  remembered  perfectly  what  he 
had  told  Tom  about  the  brokerage  business,  and 
attributed  his  tardiness  in  declaring  his  intentions 
to  a  natural  desire  to  be  at  least  apparently  self- 
supporting.  Therefore,  after  he  had  finished  his 
cognac,  he  approached  the  subject  with  character 
istic  subtlety  by  remarking: 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  want  me  to  make  good 
on  what  I  said  about  giving  you  my  business." 

To  the  credit  of  our  hero  it  must  be  here  as 
serted  that  Tom  had  never  consciously  associated 
Mr.  Selby's  offer  of  financial  assistance  with  his 
daughter's  future  matrimonial  arrangements.  He 
did  not  do  so  now.  On  the  contrary,  he  merely  at- 


330      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

tributed  to  Mr.  Selby  a  generous  friendliness  toward 
himself  entirely  divorced  from  any  interest  that 
he  might  be  supposed  to  have  in  Pauline. 

"I'll  be  mighty  grateful/'  he  answered  readily 
enough,  "if  you  give  me  any  of  your  business.  It 
would  be  pretty  tough  starting  out  here  in  New 
York  without  any  backing." 

"Bet  your  life!"  agreed  Pa  Selby  succinctly. 
"A  hard  crowd  to  break  into,  believe  me.  But  I 
can  fix  you  up.  There  ain't  many  brokerage  firms 
that  would  turn  down  my  business.  I'll  give  you 
a  letter  right  now  to  Westbury  &  Wheatland,  my 
brokers,  and  tell  'em  to  make  you  a  special 
partner." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  they'd  do  that?"  asked  Tom, 
aghast. 

"We'll  see  whether  they  will  or  not!"  declared 
Mr.  Selby.  "Maybe  you  don't  appreciate  what 
a  pull  I've  got  down-town.  And  my  pull  is  yours. 
See?  That  is  if  we  pull  together,"  he  added  sig 
nificantly. 

Tom,  however,  did  not  grasp  the  connotation. 

"I  guess  there  won't  be  any  difficulty  about 
that!"  he  assured  his  host  with  enthusiasm. 

Mr.  Selby's  expression  relaxed  and  his  face 
beamed. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  son!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "Put  it  there/" 

And  he  held  out  his  hand. 

On  Wall  Street  Tom  experienced  some  difficulty 
in  finding  the  brokerage  office  of  Westbury  &  Wheat- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       331 

land  to  whom  Mr.  Selby  had  given  him  his  letter 
of  introduction.  In  spite  of  the  self-confidence 
engendered  by  his  successful  social  career  at  New 
port,  he  could  not  help  feeling  somewhat  insignif 
icant  amid  the  throng  upon  the  sidewalks.  But 
at  any  rate  his  frame  of  mind  was  entirely  differ 
ent  from  that  of  the  famous  Dick  Whittington  on 
his  arrival  in  London  with  his  mouse-trap  in  his 
pocket.  Whittington  had  intended  to  be  lord  mayor 
of  London,  but  to  be  mayor  of  New  York  would  not 
have  satisfied  Tom.  His  vision  resembled  rather 
that  of  Lord  Rosebery,  with  the  slight  difference, 
however,  that  Mr.  Tom  purposed  to  marry  not 
only  one  of  the  richest,  but  also  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  the  country.  Nevertheless,  with 
all  his  self-assurance,  he  did  not  create  any  notice 
able  stir  upon  Broadway,  and  could  hardly  be  said 
to  have  attracted  any  attention  at  all  except  from 
two  yellow-haired  young  ladies  who  were  drinking 
soda-water  at  the  fountain  of  Mr.  Blake's  corner 
drug-store,  and  for  whose  approving  regard  our 
hero  felt  duly  grateful. 

He  had  rather  anticipated  that  the  abode  of 
Westbury  &  Wheatland  would  turn  out  to  be  a 
stately  building  of  Carrara  marble  with  plate-glass 
windows  through  which  the  passers-by  could  discern 
at  a  respectful  distance  the  partners  themselves, 
moving  among  their  customers  arrayed  in  frock 
coats  and  tall  silk  hats.  That  at  least  had  been 
the  impression  conveyed  to  him  by  Mr.  Selby; 
but  the  number  of  Wall  Street  which  corresponded 


332       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

with  the  one  upon  the  envelope  in  his  hand  proved 
to  belong  to  a  dingy,  brown-stone  structure  whose 
narrow  hallway  was  paved  with  dirty  marble,  and 
whose  stairs  were  cramped  and  winding.  West- 
bury  &  Wheatland  were  not  even  upon  the  ground 
floor.  They  were  only  up  one  flight,  however,  and 
Tom,  having  climbed  the  necessary  distance,  found 
himself  in  a  sunny  suite  of  old-fashioned  green- 
carpeted  offices,  full  of  deep-seated  leather  chairs 
and  sofas,  and  hung  with  railroad  maps.  A  group 
of  men  were  standing  around  the  ticker  by  the 
window,  and  at  one  end  of  the  room  a  clerk  in  an 
alpaca  jacket  was  busily  hanging  up  little  square 
figures  to  indicate  the  prices  at  which  the  various 
stocks  were  selling  across  the  way  in  the  big  ex 
change.  There  were  perhaps  ten  persons  in  the 
entire  place,  and  Tom  looked  vainly  for  some  em 
ployee  to  whom  he  could  state  his  business.  No 
body  appeared  to  wait  on  him,  however,  and  as  the 
youth  hanging  up  the  numbers  hardly  seemed  free 
to  run  errands,  Tom  had  no  choice  but  to  grapple 
with  the  situation  himself.  Accordingly,  still  wear 
ing  his  hat,  since  he  noticed  that  most  of  the  other 
persons  in  the  office  were  wearing  theirs,  he  ap 
proached  the  ticker,  and  accosted  the  first  back  he 
saw  there. 

"Beg  pardon,  could  you  tell  me  where  to  find 
Mr.  Westbury?"  he  ventured. 

The  particular  back  toward  which  he  had  di 
rected  the  inquiry  remained  seemingly  oblivious 
of  his  existence.  It  was  a  well-shaped  back  with 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       333 

broad  shoulders,  and  covered  with  what  the  Cam 
bridge  tailors  had  been  accustomed  to  describe 
as  a  "nobby"  suit  of  black-and-white  check.  The 
back  proving  unresponsive  to  merely  verbal  ap 
proach,  Tom  unhesitatingly  tapped  its  owner  on 
the  shoulder. 

"Can  you  tell  me—"  he  repeated;  but  the  com 
pletion  of  the  sentence  was  interrupted  by  the 
sudden  turning  around  of  the  man  to  whom  the 
back  belonged. 

"Eh?"  he  began.  He  gazed  quizzically  at  Tom 
out  of  not  altogether  friendly  gray  eyes.  "Well, 
I'll  be  damned!"  he  concluded. 

Tom  recoiled  abruptly.  He  had  not  expected 
thus  to  encounter  Lulie's  husband  at  the  thresh 
old  of  his  budding  financial  career.  He  found  him 
self  growing  uncomfortably  warm,  and  with  his 
heart  pounding  violently.  He  was  in  fact  quite 
unable  to  speak. 

Mr.  Wingate  seemed  fully  appreciative  of  the 
humor  of  the  situation. 

"Not  looking  for  me,  are  you?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

Tom  swallowed  and  shook  his  head.  He  was 
looking  for  one  of  the  firm,  he  said.  He  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  which  he  wished  to  present  in  person. 

"That's  all  right,"  responded  Wingate,  "I'm 
a  member  of  the  firm  myself.  You  want  to  talk 
to  Westbury,  I  presume.  Give  me  your  letter  and 
I'll  take  it  in  to  him.  Don't  mind  waiting  a  few 
minutes,  do  you?" 

Tom  would  have   surrendered   the   contents   of 


334      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  Congressional  Library  had  he  been  possessed 
of  it  in  order  to  get  rid  of  Wingate  at  that  moment, 
and  he  unhesitatingly  handed  over  the  letter  which 
Mr.  Selby  had  given  him.  It  was  rather  a  staggerer 
to  find  that  Wingate  was  a  member  of  Westbury 
&  Wheatland.  He  wondered,  as  he  waited,  if  it 
really  wouldn't  create  an  impossible  situation. 
You  could  hardly  expect  an  injured  husband  to 
take  his  wife's  corespondent  into  business  with 
him,  could  you?  Well,  Selby  would  put  him  in 
somewhere  else  that  was  just  as  good.  There  was 
more  than  one  office  on  Wall  Street.  He  began  to 
feel  better.  The  men  around  the  ticker  were  all 
smoking  cigars,  and  Tom  taking  out  his  elegant 
gold  case  began  to  smoke  too — a  cigarette.  He 
was  surprised  at  the  rapidity  with  which  the  prices 
of  the  stocks  changed  upon  the  board  at  the  end 
of  the  room.  The  men  at  the  ticker  did  not  seem 
conscious  of  his  presence,  and  once,  to  show  that 
he  was  quite  at  home,  Tom  strolled  over  and  ran 
the  tape  through  his  fingers,  quickly  retreating, 
however,  startled  at  his  own  temerity.  Wingate 
was  taking  an  awfully  long  time!  He  kicked  his 
heels  together  nervously.  Who  did  they  think  he 
was,  anyhow,  to  be  kept  waiting  in  that  fashion? 
Presently,  however,  Lulie's  husband  came  out  of 
the  inner  office  and  nodded  to  him. 

"Afl  right,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Westbury  would 
like  to  have  you  step  inside.  By  the  way,"  he 
added,  "when  you  get  through  with  him  I'd  like 
a  word  with  you  myself  if  you  don't  mind." 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       335 

Mr.  Westbury,  a  florid,  keen-eyed  man  with  a 
close  gray  mustache,  arose  and  shook  hands  with 
Tom,  and  motioned  him  to  a  seat.  He  had  the  air 
of  having  all  the  time  in  the  world. 

"Mr.  Selby  says  you  are  looking  for  a  job." 

"That's  it,"  answered  Tom,  with  an  easy  as 
surance  which  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

Mr.  Westbury  tapped  his  desk  with  the  edge  of 
the  envelope  in  his  hand. 

"The  conditions  are  a  bit  unusual,"  he  went  on, 
swiftly  appraising  Tom  with  his  sharp  eyes.  "We 
really  don't  need  anybody  here.  We  receive  most 
of  our  orders  over  the  telephone,  and  have  our 
regular  customers.  The  board  out  there  is  really 
only  a  convenience  for  a  few  of  our  friends  who 
like  to  make  our  office  their  headquarters.  But, 
of  course,  we  can  make  room — we'll  have  to  make 
room  for  you,  if  it  comes  to  that.  We  can't  afford 
to  lose  Mr.  Selby 's  business." 

Tom  felt  an  access  of  confidence.  It  was  true, 
then.  Old  Selby  must  be  a  heavy  trader. 

"That  is  for  you  to  say,"  commented  Tom.  He 
did  not  observe  that  Mr.  Westbury  was  biting  his 
mustache. 

"Putting  it  bluntly,  Mr.  Selby  proposes  that 
we  should  make  you  a  special  partner,  your  profits 
to  be  calculated  on  the  amount  of  his  business  plus 
anything  else  you  may  bring  in." 

"Well,  don't  you  think  that  a  fair  proposition?" 
asked  Tom. 

Mr.  Westbury  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


336      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"We  cannot  make  you  a  special  partner.  That 
is  out  of  the  question  for  many  reasons.  We  are 
willing,  however,  to  give  you  a  nominal  connec 
tion  with  our  house  and  to  pay  you  a  thousand 
dollars  a  month  salary  until  we  see  what  you  are 
going  to  be  worth  to  us.  How  does  that  strike 
you?" 

Tom  assured  Mr.  Westbury  that  this  would  be 
eminently  satisfactory  to  him. 

"You  can  come  here  or  not,  just  as  you  please," 
continued  Westbury.  "If  you  bring  in  any  other 
business,  we'll  give  you  some  sort  of  a  bonus.  You 
ought  to  be  able  to  pick  up  quite  a  lot  around 
the  clubs  and  hotels,  particularly  if  you  can  get 
any  tips  from  Mr.  Selby.  You  can  stay  away  as 
much  as  you  like.  Just  telephone,  if  that  suits 
you.  There's  really  nothing  you  can  do  here,  you 
know." 

"All  right,"  answered  Tom,  nothing  loath  to  be 
his  own  master  to  such  an  extent.  "When  do  I  get 
my  salary?" 

Mr.  Westbury  gave  a  slight  laugh. 

"First  of  every  month,"  he  answered  shortly. 
"Want  any  money?  We'll  give  you  an  advance  if 
you  like." 

"Just  as  you  say,"  replied  Tom  in  a  lofty  tone. 

Mr.  Westbury  pressed  a  bell  and  to  the  clerk 
who  entered  in  answer  to  it  remarked: 

"Draw  a  check  to  the  order  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Kelly  for  a  thousand  dollars " 

Then  turning  to  Tom,  he  said: 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       337 

"Well,  good  luck  to  you !  Hope  you  make  a  lot 
of  money!" 

Tom  received  his  check  in  the  outer  office.  He 
had  hardly  expected  any  such  concrete  evidence 
of  Mr.  Selby's  interest — so  soon,  at  any  rate.  Yet 
he  had  the  equivalent  of  a  thousand  dollars  ac 
tually  in  his  hand !  A  thousand  dollars !  His  first 
real  money !  Enough  to  pay  back  all  that  he  had 
borrowed  from  Allyn,  and  have  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  left  besides.  He  almost  forgot  about  Win- 
gate  in  his  excitement  and  haste  to  get  the  check 
cashed.  But  Wingate  did  not  let  him  escape/ 

"Well,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "now  that  business 
is  over,  can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes?  What  do 
you  say,  shall  we  sit  down  here?  Perhaps  we  had 
better  go  into  my  private  office,  eh?" 

"Suit  yourself,"  answered  Tom,  distrustful  of 
any  Greek  bearing  a  gift. 

He  followed  Wingate  down  a  narrow  passage 
until  they  came  to  a  small  room  at  the  end  of  the 
suite.  It  was  a  cheery  place,  with  a  fire  burning 
in  an  iron  grate,  and  the  sun  pouring  in  through 
a  single  huge  window,  beneath  which  there  stood 
a  desk.  On  the  top  of  the  desk  was  a  large  framed 
photograph  of  Lulie !  At  sight  of  it  Tom  hesitated 
and  almost  dropped  in  his  tracks.  Wingate  with 
his  wife's  picture !  Lulie's  girlish  face  looked  out 
archly  at  both  of  them,  the  husband  and  the  boy. 

"Good  picture  of  my  wife,  isn't  it?"  said  Win- 
gate  quietly,  sinking  into  a  revolving-chair,  and 
motioning  Tom  to  an  adjacent  sofa. 


338       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Very  good,  indeed — I  should  say,"  replied  Tom, 
redder  now  than  ever,  and  endeavoring  to  assume 
an  air  of  light  indifference. 

"Of  course,  that  picture  was  taken  over  ten 
years  ago/'  continued  Wingate  critically,  "but 
she's  hardly  changed  at  all.  She  was  the  prettiest 
girl  of  her  year, — in  fact,  for  a  good  many  years." 

Tom  was  becoming  more  and  more  uncomfort 
able.  Wingate  had  him  at  a  disadvantage  and  was 
making  the  most  of  it,  although  Tom  did  not  ask 
himself  what  the  other's  purpose  was.  It  was 
enough  for  poor  Tom  that  under  the  circumstances 
it  was  quite  impossible  for  him  to  demand  what 
all  that  was  to  him.  Hang  it,  of  course,  Wingate 
had  a  right  to  assume  that  he  was  interested  in 
Lulie.  The  blush  that  had  at  first  been  only  a  dull 
red  now  burned  scarlet  across  Tom's  cheeks  and 
forehead. 

"You  may  be  surprised  at  my  speaking  to  you 
this  way,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  know  my  wife  pretty 
well.  I  know  how  beautiful  and  how  damned  fas 
cinating  she  is.  But  I  know  something  more  about 
her  or  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  here  in  my  office  with 
you,  young  man.  And  that  is  that  my  wife  never 
went  wrong  with  any  man  and  never  will." 

Wingate's  honest  gray  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
Tom's  face.  He  was  speaking  gently,  almost  ten 
derly  of  his  wife. 

"I  was  madly  in  love  with  Lulie — have  always 
been  in  love  with  her.  I  guess  I'm  in  love  with  her 
now.  I  think  she  used  to  love  me.  She  still  loves 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY       339 

me  sometimes.  But  I  wasn't  clever  enough  for  her 
and  I  bored  her.  I'm  only  a  stock-broker.  I  never 
went  to  college.  Maybe  I'd  have  bored  her  just 
as  much,  if  I  had.  But  she  was  one  of  those  girls 
who  get  a  bad  start,  because  she  never  knew  any 
thing  about  real  life.  New  York  and  Newport 
is  full  of  them.  I  don't  wish  to  tire  you,  but  I  think 
you  ought  to  have  a  word  of  explanation  about 
Lulie.  I  appreciate  it's  not  all  your  fault.  But 
then  it  isn't  all  hers  either.  It's  partly  the  fault 
of  conditions.  You  see,  she  has  never  had  to  do 
anything  for  herself  in  her  entire  life.  She  was 
brought  up  on  governesses  and  French  maids,  and 
always  had  her  breakfast  served  to  her  in  bed  on 
a  tray.  But  her  mother  took  good  care  of  her  and 
she  was  strong.  How  she  could  swim !  The  only 
things  Lulie  ever  knew  she  got  second-hand  from 
novels  and  other  girls  who  had  them  off  their  maids 
and  hair-dressers.  Sweet  trick  for  a  mother  to  play 
on  a  girl,  isn't  it?  Smoke?" 

Tom  nodded.  He  would  gladly  have  given  Win- 
gate  his  thousand-dollar  check  in  order  to  escape, 
but  common  decency  compelled  him  to  listen.  His 
hand  was  quite  unsteady  as  he  lit  the  proffered 
cigarette. 

"That  isn't  giving  a  girl  a  fair  chance!  Her 
mother  brought  her  up  to  believe  that  the  only 
kind  of  life  worth  living  was  what  you  get  down 
on  Long  Island;  taught  her  to  look  forward  to 
nothing  but  dances  and  dinners,  and  flirting  all 
the  rest  of  her  days;  and  incidentally  that  children 


340       THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

were  just  a  nuisance.  Honestly,  Lulie  hasn't  any 
idea  of  a  home,  without  half  a  dozen  footmen  in 
powdered  hair  and  knee-breeches.  What  chance 
has  a  girl  got,  I  ask  you?" 

He  inhaled  a  deep  breath  of  cigarette  smoke. 

"And  then  they  brought  her  out  with  a  great 
fanfare  of  trumpets.  For  two  years  she  went  to 
a  ball  every  night,  and  stayed  in  bed  all  the  next 
day.  For  two  years  she  was  the  centre  of  a  whirl 
wind  of  artificial  excitement.  Every  unmarried 
man  made  love  to  her,  and  a  good  many  married 
men.  She  was  fed  up  on  it.  Then  she  married 


me." 


He  laughed  amiably. 

"I  suppose  I  was  rather  a  come-down  for  Lulie, 
although  I  filled  the  bill  so  far  as  money  and  what 
you  call  social  position  go.  But  her  mother  was 
satisfied,  and  so  was  she  for  a  while.  Then  it  got 
to  be  an  old  story.  You  see  she'd  become  con 
vinced  that  she  would  hold  the  centre  of  the  stage 
all  her  life.  She'd  been  flattered  and  adored  and 
petted  until  she  had  to  have  admiration  or  die  of 
drought.  And  suddenly,  after  this  hectic  two 
years  of  debutante  life,  the  whole  thing  dropped 
with  a  thud.  She  was  married;  she  refused  to 
have  any  children — the  idea  filled  her  with  disgust 
and  horror,  and  she  had  nothing  to  do.  Whether 
she  wanted  a  boiled  egg  or  an  elephant  steak  she 
could  get  it  by  simply  pressing  a  button.  And,  as 
I  say,  she  was  perfectly  strong  and  well.  She  had 
to  have  some  outlet  for  her  energies,  so  she  began 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       341 

to  take  on  a  few  admirers.  She  told  me  all  about 
'em,  laughed  at  'em  with  me.  But  she  was  so  pretty 
—is  so  pretty,  they  used  to  lose  their  heads  over 
her.  I  can't  blame  her  or  them  very  much.  And 
the  thing  grew  on  her !  She  just  couldn't  live  with 
out  it.  I  can  understand  it  easily  enough.  Her 
mother  had  made  her  think  that  her  whole  life  was 
going  to  be  one  triumphal  procession,  and  then 
the  procession  petered  out.  She  ceased  to  be  a 
debutante  but  she  still  had  the  debutante  point 
of  view !  She  had  to  be  made  love  to  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  she  was  married  already  and  wasn't 
willing  to  pay  the  price  of  love." 

He  knocked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette. 

"We  had  rows.  Not  because  she'd  done  any 
thing  really  wrong,  but  because  she  was  getting 
herself  talked  about  and  making  me  ridiculous. 
She  went  back  to  her  mother  half  a  dozen  times, 
and  then  when  she  got  tired  of  that  started  in  again 
with  me.  Of  course  it's  grown  on  her,  but  it's  not 
as  bad  as  if  she  drank  or  took  drugs.  But  some 
times  I  don't  think  she's  quite  all  there."  He  tapped 
his  forehead.  "There  are  lots  like  her.  The  doctors 
tell  me  that  if  she'd  had  children  it  would  have 
been  different.  She's  never  fulfilled  the  purpose 
she  was  made  for.  You  see  there's  a  nervous  side 
to  it.  She's  got  an  unconscious — totally  unrecog 
nized — maternal  instinct  that  craves  satisfaction, 
and  there's  nothing  to  satisfy  it.  Some  women 
take  it  out  on  dogs.  You  understand." 

Tom  had  started  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  blurred 


342       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

with  indignant  tears.  Wingate  waved  him  sternly 
back. 

"I've  been  speaking  in  defense  of  my  wife  and 
in  behalf  of  a  lot  of  useless,  miserable,  neurotic 
women  who  can  only  play  at  being  alive.  I've  got 
more  to  say,  though.  As  I  tell  you,  I  know  that 
Lulie  never  did  a  really  wrong  thing — you  know 
what  I  mean.  And  she  never  will.  Why,  that 
night  you  met  her  in  the  hall  we'd  been  talking 
things  over — you  among  'em.  I'd  met  her  at  the 
Welfleets  not  long  before,  and  we'd  had  a  jolly  chat 
in  the  garden  and  patched  it  all  up.  Then  you 
came  along  and  spilled  the  beans.  Don't  you  sup 
pose  I  know  you  were  drunk  ?  Of  course  you  were. 
But  it  might  have  happened  even  if  you'd  been 
sober, — and  the  other  way  'round  at  that.  Of  course, 
I  had  to  stand  on  my  dignity  in  the  household,  but 
I  know  Lulie  wasn't  to  blame  then.  The  trouble 
is  they're  all  against  her  now.  No  use  explaining.  I 
didn't  want  to  make  a  fuss,  so  I  got  out.  Six  months 
from  now  Lulie  will  come  around  again  and  we'll 
fix  things  up. 

I  want  to  say  two  things  to  you.  First,  I  want 
to  warn  you  against  ruining  your  young  life  chas 
ing  after  my  wife.  She'll  play  with  you,  and  then 
throw  you  away  like  a  rag  doll.  She  doesn't  care  a 
damn  for  you  or  any  other  man  alive.  She  cares 
only  for  herself.  She's  as  hard  as  nails  and  cold  as 
ice.  And  she's  as  wily  when  she's  playing  her  game 
as  a  heathen  Chinee.  For  instance,  she's  not  aboye 
trying  to  make  you  think  I'll  divorce  her  and  name 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       343 

you  as  corespondent.  My  God !  You !  Ha !  Ha ! 
That's  the  kind  of  thing  she  does  to  put  ginger  into 
the  game.  Yet  she  knows  that  I  wouldn't  divorce 
her  under  any  conditions.  She's  my  wife  and  I'm 
going  to  protect  her  no  matter  what!  See?" 

Wingate  had  thrown  away  his  cigarette  and 
was  leaning,  forward  pointing  a  long  forefinger  at 
the  now  utterly  humiliated  and  partially  frightened 
Tom. 

"And  that  brings  me  to  the  second  thing  I've 
got  to  say  to  you,  young-feller-me-lad !  I  don't 
care  how  much  you  burn  your  fingers  letting  Lulie 
pull  the  wool  over  your  eyes.  You  are  free  to  play 
the  game  and  make  anything  out  of  it  you  can — 
which  won't  be  much.  But — "  and  he  rose  and 
stood  threateningly  over  Tom,  "if  you  once  do  or 
say  anything — you  understand,  anything — in  public 
or  elsewhere  that  compromises  my  wife  in  any 
way,  I'll  thrash  you  until  I  break  every  bone  in 
your  body,  and  I'll  leave  you  so  your  own  mother 
wouldn't  recognize  you.  Is  that  plain  enough?" 

Tom  slipped  out  of  his  chair  and  got  upon  his 
feet.  He  was  thoroughly  scared,  for  Wingate  had 
by  this  time  quite  lost  control  of  himself.  He  had 
no  desire  to  get  into  a  fight,  particularly  when  he 
knew  that  he  was  in  the  wrong.  The  husband  of 
the  woman  he  thought  he  loved  stood  before  him 
quivering  with  anger,  his  fingers  moving  spasmodi 
cally.  He  now  made  a  vague  gesture  toward  the 
door  and  tried  to  speak. 

"Get  out!"  he  finally  blurted. 


344      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Tom  did  not  delay  in  carrying  out  this  order.  He 
"got  out,"  as  he  picturesquely  expressed  it  to  him 
self,  "  while  the  getting  was  good."  In  fact,  the  pre 
cise  method  of  his  departure  remained  a  permanent 
blank  in  his  recollection.  Once  down-stairs  and  out 
upon  the  street,  he  realized  forcibly,  however,  that 
it  would  be  most  embarrassing  to  be  associated  in 
business  after  what  had  occurred  with  a  firm  of 
which  Wingate  was  a  member.  The  mere  thought 
of  climbing  the  stairs  again  and  explaining  matters 
to  Mr.  Westbury  filled  him  with  dismay.  Wingate 
would  probably  be  prowling  around  somewhere, 
and  be  disagreeable  if  not  dangerous.  It  would 
be  much  more  tactful  and  far  safer  to  write  a  letter, 
and  return  the  check  which  now,  of  course,  it  would 
be  quite  impossible  for  him  to  keep.  He  fingered 
it  with  regret,  representing  as  it  did  the  largest 
sum  he  had  ever  had  within  his  control.  There 
was  no  help  for  it.  He  would  have  to  send  it  back. 
He  would  simply  have  to  go  to  Selby  and  get  from 
him  letters  to  another  brokerage  firm.  The  hands 
of  the  clock  on  Trinity  church  pointed  to  a  half 
after  twelve.  There  was  just  time  to  reach  the 
Waldorf  comfortably  before  lunch. 

He  found  Mr.  Selby  amusing  himself  by  looking 
out  of  the  window  and  smoking  one  of  the  long  black 
submarine  cigars  which  he  affected.  The  ladies,  he 
said,  had  gone  out  shopping,  and  purposed  lunch 
ing  anywhere — wherever  they  happened  to  be  taken 
hungry.  He  listened  with  interest  while  Tom  gave 
an  emasculated  narrative  of  his  experiences  of  the 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       345 

morning,  nodding  commendation  or  scowling  dis 
agreement  as  the  case  might  be.  But  when  his 
guest  endeavored  to  explain  why  he  could  not  as 
sociate  himself  with  the  firm  in  question  Mr.  Selby 
was  clearly  mystified.  Tom  took  the  position  that 
as  he  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Scotts  it  would 
be  manifestly  improper  or  at  least  exceedingly 
awkward  to  be  connected  in  business  with  Win- 
gate,  who  as  a  matter  of  common  knowledge,  was 
separated  from  his  wife.  If  nothing  else,  such  an 
association  would  certainly  prevent  his  getting  any 
of  the  Scott  business,  which  might  be  large.  Mr. 
Selby,  however,  couldn't  see  it  at  all !  Half  the 
men  you  knew  were  separated  from  their  wives ! 
Business  was  business,  and  matrimony  was  matri 
mony — or  bad  business,  as  you  chose  to  regard  it. 
He  chuckled  at  what  he  regarded  as  a  very  good 
joke.  Tom  in  his  opinion  was  making  a  mistake. 
Westbury  &  Wheatland  were  one  of  the  strongest 
houses  on  the  Street — did,  in  fact,  an  enormous 
business.  The  proprosed  connection  would  be  worth 
fifty  thousand  a  year !  He  shook  his  head.  No, 
the  alleged  reason  was  no  reason  at  all! 

Tom,  however,  was  obdurate.  Unable  to  tell 
Selby  the  real  cause  of  his  refusal  to  join  Westbury 
&  Wheatland,  he  merely  insisted  upon  the  assumed 
one,  and  requested  Mr.  Selby  to  give  him  letters 
to  some  other  firm.  This  his  host  was  disinclined 
to  do.  He  didn't  like  the  idea,  he  explained,  of 
having  Tom  rush  all  over  the  Street  turning  down 
good  jobs  for  fanciful  reasons.  In  the  long  run  it 


346       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

would  be  bad  for  him.  Westbury  &  Wheatland 
were  his  regular  brokers,  and  he  didn't  want  to 
leave  them.  The  old  fellow  was  obviously  quite 
distressed  at  the  situation.  He  wanted,  he  said, 
more  time  to  think  it  over.  However,  he  had  a 
suggestion.  Why  should  not  Tom  see  what  he 
could  do  for  himself?  He  would  agree  to  give  him 
such  business  as  he  might  have  until  further  notice, 
and  Tom  could  place  it  where  he  chose — with  any 
responsible  firm.  Moreover,  he'd  give  him  a  tip 
and  Tom  could  see  what,  he  could  do  with  it. 
"Chicle"  was  going  up.  Not  right  off,  maybe, 
but  before  very  long.  It  was  good  for  seven  or 
eight  points  anyhow.  They  had  lunch  together, 
from  which  Selby  departed  hurriedly  for  a  matinee, 
leaving  Tom  with  an  unoccupied  afternoon  before 
him. 

Lighting  a  cigarette,  Tom  sipped  a  cup  of  coffee, 
and  then  sauntered  through  the  corridors  on  the 
ground  floor  of  the  hotel,  idly  watching  the  people 
who  occupied  the  armchairs  which  lined  the  walls. 
Presently  his  eye  caught  a  sign  reading  "Wert- 
heim  &  Wertheim,"  and  he  found  himself  at  the 
open  door  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  brokerage  office. 
There  was  the  usual  "board"  at  one  end  of  the  room 
upon  which  the  prices  of  active  stocks  were  being 
recorded,  and  in  front  of  which  reclined  an  audience 
of  rather  prosperous-looking  men  and  a  few  women. 
At  the  other  end  of  the  room  stood  a  couple  of 
tickers,  and  about  them  were  congregated  the 
customary  crowd  of  traders.  A  tall,  alert-looking 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       347 

young  Hebrew  who  had  been  standing  by  the  win 
dow  turned  as  Tom  entered,  nodded,  and  came  for 
ward. 

"Glad  to  have  you  drop  in  on  us,  Mr.  Kelly," 
said  he  affably. 

Tom  was  nonplussed.  He  was  unaware  that 
his  name  was  known  to  anybody  in  the  hotel  out 
side  the  Selbys  and  the  room  clerk.  Young  Mr. 
Wertheim  smiled. 

"You're  a  little  surprised  at  my  knowing  your 
name?  That's  nothing.  We  make  it  our  business 
to  know  who  is  at  the  hotel.  Glad  to  get  a  little 
of  your  trade,  you  know.  Besides,  of  course,  your 
being  a  friend  of  Mr.  Selby's " 

"I  see — J)  remarked  Tom.  It  had  suddenly  oc 
curred  to  him  that  here  was  a  chance  to  test  the 
value  of  Mr.  Selby's  influence  and  support. 

"Doing  anything  in  the  market?"  further  in 
quired  Wertheim  easily. 

"How's  'Chicle'?"  asked  Tom  in  a  low  tone 
hardly  aware  that  he  had  uttered  the  words. 

Wertheim  glanced  at  the  board. 

"Forty-one,"  answered  the  broker  in  the  same 
key,  but  manifestly  interested.  "Anything  do 
ing?" 

Tom  nodded  mysteriously. 

"It's  good  for  a  rise,"  he  remarked  confidently. 
"Not  at  once,  necessarily.  But  it's  good  for  seven 
or  eight  points,  believe  me." 

Mr.  Wertheim  became  instantly  agitated. 

"Is  that  straight?"  he  whispered. 


348       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"  Straight  from  Selby — within  ten  minutes." 

"Look  here,"  responded  Wertheim,  "come  into 
our  inside  office,  won't  you?" 

He  grabbed  Tom's  arm  and  hastily  pushed  him 
through  a  glass  door  into  a  small  room,  empty  save 
for  a  table  with  a  telephone  upon  it. 

"Suppose  we  take  a  flyer?"  suggested  the  broker 
eagerly.  "I'll  carry  you  for  a  thousand — for  the 

dp." 

Tom,  who  had  not  the  remotest  idea  what  being 
"carried  for  a  thousand"  meant,  nodded. 

"I  don't  mind,"  he  answered. 

Wertheim  unhooked  the  receiver  of  the  tele 
phone  and  murmured  into  it  rapidly.  Then  he 
hung  it  up. 

"You  just  leave  this  all  to  me,"  he  said  to  Tom. 
The  bell  rang  and  Wertheim  took  up  the  receiver 
again. 

"Got  it,"  he  exclaimed,  "Forty-one  and  an 
eighth." 

"Got  what?"  inquired  Tom. 

"Two  thousand  shares  of  Chicle,"  answered 
Wertheim  with  a  puzzled  look.  "Say,  it's  all  right, 
isn't  it?" 

"Why,  of  course,  it's  all  right.  I  told  you  it  was 
going  up,"  replied  Tom. 

"Well— I  think  I'll  start  her  along  now,"  an 
swered  his  new  friend.  "You  wait  here — or,  if 
you  prefer,  get  over  by  the  board  and  see  what 
happens.'' 

Tom,  entirely  at  sea  as  to  what  it  all  meant, 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       349 

started  out  among  the  crowd,  watching  while  Wert- 
heim  moved  from  group  to  group.  The  man  at 
the  board  suddenly  changed  the  card  under  "Chi" 
to  42.  A  few  moments  later  he  altered  it  again  to 
42^. 

Wertheim  came  over  to  where  Tom  was  stand 
ing. 

"She's  moving,"  he  whispered. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  Chicle  was  mov 
ing — jumping  in  fact.  Before  many  minutes  had 
elapsed  Chicle — whatever  Chicle  might  be — had 
gone  successively  from  42^  to  43,  to  43^,  to  44^, 
to  45,  and  then  to  45%. 

At  that  point  Wertheim  hastened  again  to  Tom 
and  dragged  him  once  more  into  the  office. 

"Look  here!"  he  cried,  "I'm  for  getting  out 
quick.  What  do  you  say?" 

"I  would,"  agreed  Tom  for  no  reason  in  the 
world  save  to  be  agreeable. 

The  broker  used  the  telephone  once  more,  his 
face  pale  with  excitement.  Then  he  sank  back  with 
a  deep  suspiration  of  relief. 

"Sold  it— at  45!"  he  ejaculated.  "Congratula 
tions!" 

He  opened  a  pocket  check-book,  wrote  rapidly 
and  tore  out  a  piece  of  paper. 

"Here  you  are !"  he  said,  tossing  a  check  in  Tom's 
direction.  "A  thousand  thanks!  If  you  get  any 
more  like  that,  let  us  know." 

"What's  this?"  asked  Tom,  gazing  stupidly  at 
the  check  in  his  hand. 


350       THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Your  profits,  of  course.  I've  given  you  my 
own  check.  I'll  put  it  through  as  a  personal  trans 
action.  No  use  complicating  matters." 


XXVII 

TOM  continued  to  regard  the  check  doubtfully. 
It  was  the  largest  sum  of  money  he  had  ever  had 
in  his  possession,  a  stupendous  amount,  more,  prob 
ably,  than  his  father  had  ever  earned  in  a  single 
year,  far  more  than  the  present  total  of  his  mother's 
annual  income.  And  he  had  got  it  by  doing  nothing 
at  all !  Yet  Wertheim  had  handed  it  to  him  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Old  Man  Selby  had  indeed  a 
pull !  His  words  were  golden  words,  or  rather  golden 
keys  to  unlock  the  doors  of  fortune. 

Tom  did  not,  in  fact,  have  a  very  clear  idea  of 
what  had  happened.  He  knew  that  in  some  way 
or  other  he  had  purchased  stock  and  made  a  profit 
on  it.  He  had  not  meant  to  buy  it,  but  then,  if 
Wertheim  had  taken  it  that  way — !  It  was  not 
until  later  that  he  fully  realized  that,  had  the  stock 
gone  down,  instead  of  up,  he  could  not  have  covered 
the  resultant  loss  which  the  firm  would  thus  have 
been  obliged  to  bear.  But,  as  it  was,  he  saw  only 
a  smiling  broker  and  a  large  check. 

"Glad  to  do  business  with  you  any  time,"  said 
Wertheim,  laying  a  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder  and 
producing  a  box  of  cigars.  "Have  a  smoke?" 

"No,  thanks,"  replied  the  youthful  financier. 
He  was  thinking  as  rapidly  as  he  could.  "Suppose 

351 


352       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY 

I  got  you  a  lot  of  business —would  you  pay  me  a 
salary?" 

"Would  we?"  ejaculated  Wertheim.  "Just 
watch  us!" 

"I  guess  I  could  swing  quite  a  lot  of  Mr.  Selby's 
trading  your  way,"  ventured  Tom. 

"Fine!"  returned  his  companion. 

"All  right,"  answered  Tom.  "I'll  see  what  I 
can  do.  I'll  drop  around  in  the  morning." 

Wertheim  and  he  shook  hands,  and  Tom  saun 
tered  out  with  his  check.  It  was  only  a  quarter 
to  three,  the  whole  affair  having  occupied  less  than 
half  an  hour.  How  easy  to  make  a  lot  of  money— 
if  you  only  knew  how !  He  crossed  the  street,  de 
posited  his  voucher,  secured  a  check-book  and 
returned  to  the  hotel  writing-room.  He  could  now 
pay  off  Allyn  and  relieve  his  mind  of  an  anxiety 
which  had  of  late  grown  constantly  greater. 

Yet  as  he  drew  the  check  to  his  friend's  order 
for  the  eight  hundred  dollars  which  he  owed  him, 
he  was  not  altogether  easy  in  his  mind.  It  did  not 
seem,  somehow,  as  if  the  check  could  really  repre 
sent  eight  hundred  dollars.  He  thought  of  the  petty 
economies  with  which  his  mother's  existence  had 
always  been  filled,  the  inevitable  turning  off  of  the 
gas  when  not  in  use,  the  saving  of  odd  half-sheets 
of  writing  paper,  the  substitution  of  newspaper 
"spills"  for  matches,  the  thousand  and  one  ways 
in  which  she  had  managed  to  eke  out  her  income 
in  order  to  send  him  to  college,  and  at  the  same  time 
keep  a  home  open  for  him  to  go  to. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       353 

Only  he  hadn't  gone!  Really  he  must  take  a 
run  up  to  Boston  soon  and  see  her.  How  would  it 
do  to  send  her  a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars? 
Something  told  him  that  she  would  not  take  it  if 
she  knew  the  source  of  its  origin.  She  had  always 
referred  to  the  stock  exchange  as  if  it  had  been  the 
portico  of  the  infernal  regions.  Narrow-minded, 
of  course!  But  curiously  enough  Tom  felt  some 
thing  of  the  same  superstition.  He  could  not  send 
her  a  check  for  so  large  a  sum  without  explanation, 
and  any  truthful  explanation  would,  he  knew  in 
stinctively,  render  the  gift  unacceptable.  How 
ever,  he  mailed  a  check  to  his  tailor  in  Cambridge 
for  his  long-overdue  account  and  paid  whatever 
other  bills  he  could  think  of.  They  were  not  nu 
merous,  although  they  aggregated  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  dollars,  and  he  still  had  over  two  thousand 
dollars  left  when  he  had  finished. 

Two  thousand  dollars!  He  kept  repeating  the 
words  in  a  sort  of  sing-song — "two — thous — andol — 
lars — two — thous — an  dot — lars!"  Two  thousand 
dollars?  Why  he  could  spend  a  thousand  and  still 
have  another  thousand  dollars  left.  In  a  few  days, 
when  he'd  amassed  forty,  or  fifty,  or  maybe  a  hun 
dred  thousand,  he'd  take  a  special  train,  and  go 
up  to  Boston  to  see  his  mother.  That  would  be 
after  he'd  made  all  his  arrangements  with  "Wert- 
heim  &  Wertheim."  Then  he  would  come  back  a 
full-fledged  business  man,  and  his  mother  would 
be  satisfied,  so  long  as  it  was  his  regular  occupation. 

He  leaned  back   in  a  leather  lounge-chair,  and 


354       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

planned  what  he  would  do  when  he  returned  home. 
Well,  first  his  mother  should  go  right  over  to  Boyls- 
ton  Street,  to  that  swell  "Madame  Irene"  the 
"Parisienne  Modiste,"  and  order  a  couple  of  dresses. 
There  had  been  enough  seamstresses  in  the  house, 
cluttering  up  everything,  leaving  their  chalk  and 
wax  around,  and  eating  their  meals  at  the  table ! 
Imagine !  Huh ! — eating  with  a  seamstress — even 
if  she  was  called  "Miss" !  Yes,  his  mother  should 
have  a  wonderful  black  silk  dress  with  real  lace, 
and  some  decent  shoes. 

He  remembered  with  a  shudder  the  stubby  little 
kid  shoes,  rubbed  almost  white  on  the  toes  and  sides, 
which  his  mother  had  always  insisted  on  wearing. 
New  shoes  for  mother !  Made  to  order ! 

A  glow  of  benevolence  possessed  him.  He'd 
give  her  a  surprise,  a  diamond  pin  in  the  shape  of 
a  cross;  he  had  once  heard  her  express  the  prepos 
terous  wish  for  one,  with  an  embarrassed  laugh  at 
the  absurdity  of  the  mere  idea.  Probably  she  had 
prayed  the  same  night  to  be  forgiven  for  "coveting" 
her  neighbors'  goods !  He  laughed.  Well,  by 
thunder,  she  should  have  the  pin — two  pins ! 

And  then  there  was  Bridget.  She  would  have 
to  give  up  wearing  her  hair  in  that  ridiculous  knob 
on  the  back  of  her  head.  It  made  her  look  too  much 
like  a  "Biddy."  She  was  a  "Biddy,"  of  course, 
but  she  was  a  good  "Biddy" — a  sort  of  an  aris 
tocratic  "Biddy."  Now  that  they  could  have  a 
butler,  if  they  wanted  one,  to  keep  on  with  Bridget 
would  be  a  gracious  sort  of  thing  to  do — "noblesse 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       355 

oblige" — "ancien  regime" — and  so  on.  "Old  family 
servant."  But  she  must  fix  up  her  head,  and  wear 
a  cap — a  nice  white  cap.  And  learn  to  mix  drinks 
— temperance  drinks 

Tom  cracked  his  fingers  and  beckoned  to  a 
waiter. 

"Here,  bring  me  a  brandy-and-soda ! " 

He  scratched  off  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars, 
and  handing  it  to  the  man,  who  received  it  with 
obeisance,  ordered  him  to  cash  it. 

Then  the  front  door  needed  to  be  sandpapered 
down  and  varnished.  He'd  have  that  attended 
to.  Also  the  carpet  in  the  hall  before  the  door  was 
worn  threadbare.  New  carpet!  Gosh,  it  was  fun 
to  spend  two  thousand  dollars!  Up-stairs  he'd 
rip  everything  out — chuck  away  all  the  old  junk — 
hair  sofas  and  so  forth.  Hair  sofas !  Oh,  Lord ! 
Imagine  him  sitting  on  a  hair  sofa!  They  might 
do  for  Aunt  Eliza — or  Uncle  Ebenezer.  He  would 
take  out  the  gas — his  mother  was  always  smelling 
around  for  leaks — and  install  electricity.  "Install" 
was  a  good  word.  He  liked  the  sound  of  it  and  re 
peated  it  several  times.  And — of  course!  Why 
hadn't  he  thought  of  it  before — the  bathroom! 
His  mother  should  have  a  tiled  bathroom  with  all 
the  most  modern  fixtures — instead  of  sitting  on  a 
rotten  old  wooden  seat  with  her  feet  in  a  spotted 
tin  tub !  But  there  would  have  to  be  somebody 
to  take  care  of  the  bathroom — a  maid!  A  neat, 
rosy,  pretty  maid  in  a  black  dress,  white  cap  and 
a  dinky  little  apron  like  a  "doily."  No  more 


356      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"doilies"!  And  there  would  be  finger-bowls  at 
every  meal  no  matter  what  his  mother  said!  He 
returned  rather  fondly  to  the  idea  of  the  maid. 
He'd  pick  her  out  himself  or  else  his  mother  would 
get  an  old  scrawny  one.  There  was  lots  of  style 
in  a  maid. 

At  this  point  the  waiter  returned  with  the  brandy - 
and-soda,  the  glass  being  flanked  with  a  pile  of 
yellow  and  green  bills.  Tom  handed  him  one  off 
the  top  of  the  pile  with  a  grand  wave  of  his  hand. 
It  wasn't  even  a  case  of  "keep  the  change."  He 
was  away  beyond  just  little  old  "keep  the  change" 
—he  gave  bills!  He  stuffed  the  mass  of  paper  into 
his  pocket  without  counting  it,  and  began  to  im 
bibe  his  brandy-and-soda. 

He  reverted  again  to  the  maid.  She  must  be 
trim,  slender,  dark,  with  big  eyes  and  a  lot  of  wavy 
hair.  She  would  answer  the  bell,  wake  him  up  in 
the  morning  and  lay  out  his  pajamas  in  the  eve 
ning.  He  began  to  have  slight  doubts  as  to  his 
mother's  approval.  Their  waitresses — when  they 
had  any — had  always  been  huge,  broad-backed, 
hairy  peasants — Swedes,  Finns,  Lithuanians — 
Croates  even !  He  wondered  if  there  had  been 
any  arriere-pensee  in  this  selection  of  female  Brob- 
dingnagians  on  the  part  of  his  mother.  Shy  old 
mater!  He  remembered  now  a  black,  fiery  little 
Irish  girl  from  Kenmare  that  his  mother  had  only 
kept  overnight.  Yes,  the  maid  must  be  more  like 
that.  He  found  himself  engaged  in  conjuring  up  a 
very  vivid  picture — a  picture  that  resembled  some 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY      357 

one — strongly.  He  would  not  think  of  Evelyn  in 
this  mood.  His  thoughts  having  now  turned  to 
Lulie,  he  ordered  another  brandy-and-soda.  What 
a  wonderful,  soft,  alluring  creature  she  was !  Beside 
her  Pauline  was  a  clodhopper — a  stout  clodhopper ! 
He  recalled  that  night  in  the  hallway  of  the  bachelor 
wing  at  "Beausejour,"  and  the  next  night  in  the 
rose-garden.  How  reluctant,  yet  how  pliant  she 
had  been!  He  must  have  quite  a  way  with  him. 
He  projected  other  nights — in  rose-gardens — and 
elsewhere.  Hadn't  she  said  she  was  lonely? 

Tom  dressed  and  hastened  from  the  hotel  with 
out  asking  either  for  Mr.  Selby  or  the  ladies  and, 
having  purchased  two  dozen  American  Beauties 
at  a  florist's  on  Fifth  Avenue,  called  for  Lulie  in 
a  hansom.  He  had  never  ridden  in  one  before 
and  felt  rather  rakish  in  consequence.  There  was 
something  unusually  intimate  in  being  jiggled  up 
and  down  that  way  on  the  back  seat,  and  when  the 
cab-horse  stopped  unexpectedly  you  were  tossed 
backward  in  a  sort  of  delicious  confusion.  They 
dined  expensively  at  a  rather  poor  restaurant  in 
the  park,  talking  in  innuendoes,  and  reaching  the 
theatre  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  He  wondered 
several  times  if  what  Wingate  had  said  about  his 
wife  were  true — that  she  was  only  playing  with  him  ? 
He  thought  about  it  a  good  deal  in  the  theatre 
and  it  worried  his  pride  somewhat.  One  thing  he 
was  sure  of,  he  wasn't  just  going  to  hang  around 
Lulie  for  the  sake  of  spending  his  money  on  her. 
He  felt  confident  that  Wingate  was  flattering  him- 


358       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

self,  whistling  to  keep  his  courage  up.  He  had 
warned  Tom  not  to  compromise  her!  Well,  how 
could  he  compromise  her,  if  she  were  only  trifling 
with  him?  He  had  no  intention  of  compromising 
her  anyway,  but  he  refused  to  believe  that  she 
was  not  serious  with  him.  What  did  Wingate 
know  about  it?  He  had  claimed  that  she  made 
him  a  confidant  regarding  her  affairs!  Well,  she 
might  talk  over  her  affairs  with  her  husband  simply 
for  the  purpose  of  putting  him  off  the  track.  Be 
sides,  at  the  time  of  the  famous  marital  conference 
in  the  Welfleets'  garden,  Lulie  had  only  known 
him  an  hour  or  so.  She  couldn't  have  talked  him 
over  much,  that  was  sure!  There  was  nothing  in 
it.  During  the  last  act  he  pressed  his  arm  against 
hers  and  received  an  answering  pressure  that  filled 
him  with  ecstasy. 

On  the  way  home  in  the  hansom  he  kissed  her 
twice  before  they  reached  her  apartment.  In  spite 
of  his  violence,  she  promised  to  drive  with  him  again 
the  following  evening,  and  he  stood  for  several 
minutes  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  her  apartment- 
house  holding  her  little  hand.  But  she  did  not 
ask  him  to  come  in. 


XXVIII 

TOM  slept  late  the  next  morning  and,  after  a 
hearty  breakfast  in  his  sitting-room,  dressed  in  a 
leisurely  fashion  and  then  strolled  over  to  the  Selby 
apartment  in  search  of  his  patron,  whom  he  found 
as  usual  smoking  contemplatively  before  the  win 
dow. 

"Well,"  said  Selby  slyly,  after  the  first  saluta 
tions  were  over,  "I  see  Chicle  got  a  move  on!" 

"It  came  up  nobly  to  the  scratch,"  answered 
Tom.  "What  shall  I  tell  'em  to-day?  They  ex 
pect  the  very  latest  information,  you  know." 

"So-ho!"  exclaimed  Selby.  "Got  a  job  al 
ready?" 

"A  sort  of  one." 

"Where?" 

"Down-stairs.  There's  a  firm  of  brokers  right 
in  the  hotel.  They  say  they'll  pay  me  a  good  salary 
based  on  any  business  I  bring  in.  Of  course,  I 
didn't  have  any  orders  for  them,  but  I  passed  along 
your  tip  on  Chicle.  Are  you  doing  anything  in 
the  market  this  morning  ?  " 

Selby  seemed  amused. 

"You  might  buy  me  a  couple  of  thousand  shares 
around  46,"  he  agreed  carelessly.  "But  let  it  go 
if  it  touches  48." 

359 


360       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS   KELLY 

Tom  noted  the  figures  carefully  upon  the  back 
of  an  envelope,  thanked  him,  and  arose  to  go. 

Pauline's  name  had  not  been  mentioned.  In 
fact,  he  had  not  thought  of  her  for  over  twenty- 
four  hours.  With  two  thousand  dollars  in  bills 
in  his  pockets  she  did  not  appear  necessary.  Wert- 
heim  greeted  him  warmly,  his  warmth  becoming 
effusion  when  Tom  gave  him  Mr.  Selby's  order. 
It  appeared  that  Chicle  had  dropped  back  a  little, 
and  they  secured  the  two  thousand  shares  with 
out  difficulty  at  45^2,  but  almost  immediately  an 
upward  movement  set  in  just  as  it  had  the  after 
noon  before.  Everybody  seemed  suddenly  to  be 
buying  Chicle,  at  least  everybody  in  Wertheim  & 
Wertheim's,  and  most  of  the  customers  evinced 
an  undisguised  interest  in  Tom,  whose  self-esteem 
rose  momentarily  as  Chicle  bounded  upward.  Other 
stocks  were  neglected,  and  the  bystanders  at  the 
ticker  indulged  in  all  sorts  of  speculations  as  to 
what  was  going  on  in  the  company.  It  was  the 
loudly  expressed  general  opinion  that  the  stock 
had  recently  been  " neglected,"  and  that  there  was 
"real,  basic  value"  in  the  property.  Tom  en 
couraged  this  belief  by  dropping  dark  hints  as  to 
"  developments "  in  the  near  future.  Somebody 
promptly  organized  a  small  pool  and  the  stock  was 
pushed  up  beyond  49.  As  instructed,  Tom  sold 
out  at  48,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
at  any  rate  Mr.  Selby  had  not  lost  money  on  him. 

He  hung  around  the  office  until  the  close  of  busi 
ness,  then  partook  of  a  light  lunch  in  the  cafe,  and 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       361 

thereafter  amused  himself  by  strolling  up  and  down 
Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  until  it  should  be  time 
to  dress  for  dinner  and  call  for  Lulie  again.  His 
second  evening  with  her  passed  off  much  as  had 
the  first.  Again  they  dined  to  music — this  time  at 
a  Fifth  Avenue  restaurant,  and  again  sought  amuse 
ment  at  the  theatre,  after  which  she  submitted  as 
before  to  being  kissed  in  the  cab,  and  bade  him 
farewell  upon  the  sidewalk.  Tom  began  to  feel 
somehow  that  Lulie  was  not  playing  the  game. 
He  couldn't  have  explained  why  exactly — or  what 
he  expected,  but  there  was  a  sort  of  anticlimax 
about  it  all.  She  was  more  tantalizing  than  ever — 
especially  as  she  had  now  adopted  a  quasi-Platonic 
attitude  toward  him.  It  was  quite  quasi  consider 
ing  what  went  on  in  the  cab,  but  she  acted  as  if 
whatever  passed  between  them  was  of  a  merely 
friendly  character — a  boy  and  girl  relationship 
that  had  no  significance.  All  her  hints  about  the 
darkness  of  her  future  had  abruptly  stopped.  She 
was,  apparently,  quite  satisfied  to  have  Tom  calling 
for  her  in  a  cab  every  evening,  taking  her  out  to 
dinner  and  the  theatre,  and  then  kissing  her  good 
night  at  the  end  in  what  she  chose  to  regard  as  a 
brotherly  fashion. 

The  effect  on  Tom  was,  probably,  exactly  what 
Lulie  had  anticipated,  and  he  returned  to  the  hotel 
each  night  after  leaving  her,  to  toss  sleepless  on 
his  bed  for  hours.  This  went  on  for  four  days, 
during  which  time  Tom  each  morning  dropped  in 
on  Mr.  Selby,  received  an  order  to  buy  or  sell, 


362       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

usually  several  thousand  shares  of  stock,  secured 
from  him  a  trifle  of  information  regarding  Chicle, 
visited  Wertheim  &  Wertheim's,  whose  customers 
now  hung  on  his  every  word,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  in  idleness  awaiting  the  moment  when 
he  could  feel  the  soft  pressure  of  Lulie's  arm 
against  his,  and  drink  in  the  odor  of  the  violets 
which  she  wore  upon  her  bosom.  And  meantime 
Chicle  went  soaring,  and  the  ticker  world  at  large 
became  convinced  that  something  mysterious  was 
doing  in  it.  Strange  customers,  emissaries  in  dis 
guise,  from  other  stock-brokerage  firms,  appeared 
at  Wertheim  &  Wertheim's  to  hear  what  the  new 
prophet  had  to  say  about  the  future  of  this  and 
other  securities,  and  hung  upon  his  words  as  upon 
those  of  an  oracle,  demanding  to  be  told  what  to 
do. 

Wertheim  admitted  nervously  that  he  had  gone 
in  again  for  Chicle  rather  heavily — was  in  fact  the 
chief  holder  in  the  pool,  and  dogged  Tom's  foot 
steps  for  the  very  latest  news  from  Selby.  It  was 
a  bit  embarrassing — this  enforced  attribute  of  om 
niscience — and  when  Chicle  went  down,  as  it  often 
did  momentarily,  he  felt  almost  responsible  for  its 
eccentricity.  On  these  occasions  he  was  accustomed 
to  seek  Dutch  courage  in  a  tall  glass  of  brandy- 
and-soda.  Cigarettes,  of  course,  were  the  instru 
ments  of  his  profession.  He  had  nearly  forgotten 
the  existence  of  Pauline  and  her  mother.  The  face 
of  Lulie,  with  the  languorous  droop  of  her  eyelids, 
the  smell  of  her  hair,  the  touch  of  her  body,  the  mur- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       363 

mur  of  her  voice,  filled  his  veins  with  liquid  fire, 
and  drove  every  other  thought  out  of  his  mind  so 
that  he  acted  as  a  mere  automaton.  Selby  had 
seemed  rather  cool  toward  him  the  last  day  or  two, 
but  he  had  come  to  have  a  feeling  akin  to  contempt 
for  the  old  codger.  The  days  were  something  merely 
to  be  endured  until  he  could  see  Lulie — his  Lulie ! 

It  was  on  the  Friday  after  they  had  returned  to 
New  York  that  his  infatuation  reached  its  climax. 
Things  could  not  go  on  this  way,  he  told  himself, 
any  longer.  There  had  got  to  be  a  show-down  be 
tween  them.  Her  indifference  was  driving  him 
frantic.  She  must  get  rid  of  Wingate — or  some 
thing.  He  had  passed  a  sleepless  night  and  arose 
red-eyed,  jumping,  almost  hysterical.  He  could 
eat  nothing  for  breakfast,  but  drank  a  large  cup 
of  black  coffee  and  a  "bracer"  before  dressing. 
Selby  had  gone  out  when,  as  usual,  he  called  at 
the  apartment.  He  lit  cigarette  after  cigarette  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  steady  his  nerves.  Wertheim  & 
Wertheim  would  be,  he  knew,  anxious  for  something 
about  Chicle  which  had  now  climbed  to  61.  Well, 
it  was  "  still  good,"  he  guessed.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  about  Lulie.  He  wasn't  going  to  be  put 
off  any  longer.  He'd  take  her  out  to  dinner,  but 
he  wouldn't  take  her  to  the  theatre.  He  would 
insist  on  going  back  with  her  to  her  apartment. 
She  would  have  to  fish  or  cut  bait.  He  wasn't  going 
to  be  made  a  fool  of  any  longer.  He'd  find  out — 
know  where  he  stood. 

Muttering  these  and  similar  expressions,  he  en- 


364       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

tered  Wertheim  &  Wertheim's,  and  was  imme 
diately  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  anxious  "inves 
tors"  who  demanded  to  be  told  anything  that  Mr. 
Selby  had  let  drop  that  morning  about  Chicle. 
Tom  assured  them  that  it  was  "all  right — still 
good,"  adding  a  few  imaginary  trimmings  of  the 
same  general  pattern  out  of  his  own  head.  The 
stock,  however,  did  not  display  its  customary  firm 
ness,  and  "backed  and  filled"  up  to  the  time  that 
the  market  closed,  the  last  quotation  being  two 
points  below  the  highest  for  the  day.  At  five  min 
utes  after  three  Wertheim  excitedly  dragged  him 
into  the  inner  office. 

"Look  here,"  he  ejaculated,  "I  don't  like  the 
the  way  Chicle  is  acting.  WeVe  got  close  onto 
nineteen  thousand  shares  in  this  office  and  most 
of  it  is  on  five  points  margin.  Are  you  sure  it's 
all  right?  Nobody's  been  unloading  on  us,  have 
they?" 

"Of  course  not!"  returned  Tom  with  impatience. 
"It's  as  good  as  gold.  /  didn't  tell  you  to  load  up 
with  it,  anyway.  You  bought  at  your  own  risk. 
I  merely  repeated  what  Mr.  Selby  told  me  about 
it." 

Wertheim  was  chewing  the  end  of  his  cigar  in 
great  agitation.  All  his  usual  savoir-faire  had  dis 
appeared. 

"It's  true  Mr.  Selby  has  been  buying — but  then 
he's  been  selling,  too,"  he  said.  "He  probably 
has  other  brokers.  He  may  be  running  a  pool  of 
his  own.  It  means  ruin  to  me  and  my  brother  if 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       365 

he  is.  Why,  we  may  have  been  buying  Selby's 
own  stock  all  the  time ! " 

"Nonsense!"  retorted  Tom.  "He  is  giving  me 
all  his  business  just  now.  You  needn't  worry." 

Wertheim's  little  gimlet  eyes  were  fastened  on 
Tom's  face. 

"I  know  you  think  so!"  he  answered  soberly. 
"But  you  might  be  mistaken.  And  if  you  were, 
Wertheim  &  Wertheim  would  be  busted,  that's 
all.  I'd  get  out  to-morrow  morning — sell  in  London 
before  the  opening  in  fact — if  I  thought  there  was 
any  chance  of  your  being  wrong." 

"There's  no  use  being  so  excited  about  it!" 
tartly  answered  Tom.  "Everything's  all  right. 
The  stock  will  probably  keep  on  going  up  all  the 
way  to  par.  But  if  you'd  feel  any  better  about  it 
I'll  ask  Selby,  when  he  comes  in  this  evening,  what 
he  thinks  and  let  you  know." 

"The  trouble  is,"  explained  Wertheim  anxiously, 
"I'm  going  to  Schenectady  at  four  o'clock.  If  we're 
going  to  get  out  of  Chicle  I'll  have  to  cable  London 
to-night." 

"Couldn't  I  telephone  to  you  in  Schenectady?" 
inquired  Tom. 

"I  don't  know  where  I  shall  be  staying,"  replied 
Wertheim  dejectedly.  "Shan't  know  until  I  get 
there.  But  I  could  telegraph  you  as  soon  as  I  arrive 
when  and  where  to  call  me  up.  Will  that  incon 
venience  you?" 

"No — not  at  all !"  said  Tom  generously,  realizing 
that,  after  all,  he  was  in  a  measure  responsible  for 


366       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  rise  in  Chicle,  and  Wertheim's  embarrassment. 
"I'll  call  you  up  before  midnight  and  let  you  know 
what  Mr.  Selby  says.  I'll  be  glad  to  do  that  for 
you." 

Wertheim  looked  relieved. 

"Thanks — awfully!"  he  ejaculated. 

It  was  all  rather  a  bore  to  Tom,  but  he  felt  under 
obligations  to  Wertheim — they  were  partners  in  a 
way.  He'd  taken  nearly  four  thousand  dollars  out 
of  the  firm.  It  wouldn't  be  much  trouble,  after 
all,  to  call  the  broker  up  on  the  long  distance  tele 
phone.  He  could  do  it  right  from  Lulie's  apart 
ment.  Lulie !  How  could  he  wait  until  eight  o'clock 
to  see  her  ? 

He  ordered  a  drink  for  himself  in  the  cafe,  and 
then  called  Lulie's  number  on  the  telephone  only 
to  be  told  by  her  maid  that  her  mistress  was  out 
and  not  expected  back  until  six  o'clock.  It  was 
raining  and  the  hotel  air  was  heavy  and  depressing. 
Disconsolately  he  threw  himself  into  one  of  the 
leather  chairs  in  the  foyer.  Yes,  it  was  time  to 
know  where  he  was  at  with  Lulie !  He'd  ask  her 
to  go  away  with  him  that  very  night.  He  had 
money  enough  for  the  present.  This  suspense  was 
insupportable.  He  could  fix  things  up  with  Win- 
gate  somehow.  He  wouldn't  make  a  row  if  he  was 
satisfied  that  Lulie  really  loved  some  one  else.  There 
was  nothing  in  it  any  other  way.  It  was  all  or 
nothing.  They  couldn't  stay  as  they  were.  His 
cigarette-case  became  exhausted  and  he  refilled 
it  at  the  cigar  counter.  At  five  o'clock  he  went 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       367 

up-stairs,  bathed  and  began  to  dress  for  the  eve 
ning. 

His  preparations  completed,  he  rang  for  the  eve 
ning  papers  and  a  gardenia,  which  he  placed  in  the 
buttonhole  of  his  dress-coat.  He  had  still  an  hour 
to  wait  before  it  should  be  time  to  call  for  Lulie. 
The  valet  had  pulled  down  the  curtains  of  his  sitting- 
room  and  turned  on  the  lights,  and  now  Tom  put 
a  match  to  the  fire  and  sat  down  before  it  in  an 
armchair.  Outside  the  rain  drove  in  heavy  gusts 
against  the  windows.  He  was  very  tired  and  his 
right  eye  and  temple  ached  fiercely.  Now  and 
then  the  muscles  in  his  legs  jerked  spasmodically. 
He  leaned  back  his  head  and  closed  his  eyes,  lis 
tening  to  the  soft  snapping  of  the  coal  in  the  grate. 
The  warmth  was  comforting  to  his  soul.  Soon  he 
became  drowsy.  Just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of 
falling  asleep  there  came  an  unexpected  knock 
upon  the  door  behind  him. 

"Come  in!"  he  answered  automatically,  think 
ing  it  might  be  a  boy  with  a  letter  or  the  perennial 
pitcher  of  ice-water.  Then,  to  his  surprise  and  em 
barrassment,  he  discovered  that  it  was  Pauline, 
and  he  staggered  shamefacedly  to  his  feet. 

"Why,  Pauline!"  he  stammered. 

She  was  in  a  low-cut  evening  gown,  her  cheeks 
were  flushed  and  her  eyes  unnaturally  bright;  and 
he  noticed  that  she  was  twisting  her  fingers  ner 
vously  as  she  came  toward  him. 

"Tom!"  she  besought  him,  almost  pathetically. 
"Where  have  you  been?" 


368       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

He  muttered  something  about  having  been  very 
busy — dropping  his  eyes  like  a  schoolboy  before 
her  frank  gaze.  Something  told  him  that  just  as 
he  had  intended  to  have  it  out  with  Lulie,  Pauline 
had  come  to  have  it  out  with  him.  She  was  close 
beside  him  now,  looking  at  him  with  intent,  plead 
ing  eyes. 

"How  badly  you  look!"  she  exclaimed.  "Is 
anything  the  matter?" 

"I  don't  feel  very  fit,"  he  replied  awkwardly. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  it  wasn't  exactly  the  thing 
for  a  girl  to  drift  into  a  fellow's  room  like  that. 
Suppose  her  mother  should  come  along? 

"Don't  you  want  to  come  into  the  drawing- 
room?"  he  asked  in  a  weak  voice.  He  would  have 
given  all  the  money  in  his  pocket  to  have  been 
there. 

"No,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  sounded  curiously 
flat.  "I  wanted  to  see  you  alone."  She  paused. 
"Haven't  you  anything  to  say  to  me?  We  haven't 
seen  each  other  for  nearly  a  week,  and  we've  been 
right  across  the  hall  from  each  other  all  the  time." 

Again  Tom  tried  to  stammer  out  some  sort  of 
an  explanation.  It  was  beastly  rude,  he  admitted, 
rotten,  in  fact,  but  there  had  been  so  much  to  do — 
business  and  all  that,  for  her  father — he  hoped  now 
he'd  got  started  it  would  be  different — they'd  have 
to  go  to  the  theatre  or  something  soon — he  stopped, 
realizing  that  he  was  talking  into  the  air.  Pauline 
was  watching  him  anxiously.  Already  her  instinct 
told  her  that  the  situation  was  hopeless.  Indeed, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       369 

she  had  suspected  it  to  be  so  from  the  first  night 
upon  the  yacht,  and  the  suspicion  had  been  strength 
ened  by  what  had  occurred  upon  the  mountain- 
top.  But  she  was  unwilling  to  let  Tom  go  without 
a  struggle.  He  was  standing  before  the  fire,  his 
head  upon  his  breast,  unwilling  or  afraid  to  meet 
her  eyes. 

"Tom!"  she  cried,  and  in  her  voice  there  was  a 
note  of  agonized  yearning. 

He  raised  his  eyes — he  could  not  do  less,  and  his 
lips  quivered.  After  all,  he  was  only  twenty-two. 
He  hadn't  meant  to  hurt  Pauline — didn't  want  to 
hurt  her.  Her  face  was  close  to  his  now,  and  he 
could  see  big  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"I — Pauline!"  He  choked.  "I  guess  I've  been 
a  brute!" 

"No!  No!"  she  wildly  protested,  holding  out 
her  bare  arms  to  him.  "You've  been  a  perfect 
dear — always!  Tom!  0  Tom!"  She  pressed  one 
arm  to  her  eyes  and,  before  he  could  draw  away, 
threw  the  other  around  his  neck.  "Love  me!" 
she  sobbed  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder.  "Love 
me,  Tom !  I  can't  live  without  you !" 

Tom,  wretched  with  self-reproach,  put  both 
arms  around  her. 

"Don't,  Pauline!"  he  ordered.  "You  mustn't. 
You're  all  upset !  You're  not  yourself !" 

She  shook  her  head,  weeping  convulsively. 

"I  love  you!  I  love  you!  You  must  love  me! 
I  shall  die  without  you !  Say  you  love  me !  Tom ! 
Say  you  love  me!" 


370       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

She  clung  to  him  like  a  frenzied  child. 

"Pauline!"  he  answered  sharply.  "You  must 
stop!  Do  you  hear?  Stop!  This — this  won't 
do  at  all !  I'm  very  fond  of  you,  of  course.  You 
know  that.  But  I  don't  love  you — the  way  you 
mean ! " 

"Oh,"  she  sobbed,  letting  her  arms  fall  away  from 
him.  "Oh!" 

She  drew  back  slowly,  almost  reluctantly,  her 
face  burning  with  a  deep  crimson,  in  spite  of  her 
wet  cheeks. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  her  voice  vibrating  with  shame 
and  anger.  "Oh ! — I  hate  you !  I  hate  you !" 

And  turning  on  her  heel  she  rushed  out  of  the 
room. 

Tom  stood  there  shocked  and  humiliated,  ap 
preciating  fully  that  he  and  no  one  else  was  re 
sponsible  for  this  unpleasant  scene,  yet  endeavoring 
to  convince  himself  that  he  had  not  at  any  time 
intentionally  deceived  Pauline  as  to  his  feelings 
toward  her.  His  attempt  at  self-justification,  how 
ever,  was  far  from  satisfactory.  He  had  really 
played  fast  and  loose  with  her — even  if  it  were 
equally  true  that  she  had  taken  rather  more  for 
granted  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  than  the  cir 
cumstances  warranted.  Poor  Pauline!  A  stout 
figure  blocked  the  threshold,  and  Tom  suddenly 
found  himself  confronted  by  "Poor  Pauline's" 
father.  The  little  man  was  glaring  at  him  aggres 
sively,  a  large  cigar  blazing  fiercely  in  front  of  his 
bellicose  features.  Slamming  the  door  behind  him 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       371 

without  turning  around,  he  advanced  toward  the 
rug  upon  which  Tom  was  standing,  removed  the 
cigar  with  his  left  hand  and  clinched  his  right  a 
short  distance  away  from  Tom's  nose. 

"You  young  whippersnapper !"  he  shouted. 
"What  you  mean  by  treatin'  my  Pauline  this  way? 
I  thought — everybody  thought — it  was  all  fixed 
up  'tween  her  and  you !  Now  she's  gone  in  there 
to  her  room  cryin'  her  eyes  out !  What  you  said 
to  her,  eh?  You  tell  me,  see?" 

He  made  a  rather  ridiculous  figure — suggesting 
an  old  hen  trying  to  turn  game-cock  in  defense 
of  her  offspring.  Tom's  feeling  of  self-abasement 
instantly  turned  to  irritation. 

"I  didn't  say  anything  to  her!"  he  retorted. 
"She  did  all  the  talking  herself!" 

Pa  Selby  glowered  at  him  indignantly. 

"I  guess  she  wouldn't  take  on  so  unless  you  was 
partly  to  blame!"  he  returned  in  heat.  "Anyhow 
I  won't  have  my  little  girl  talked  to  so's  to  make 
her  cry.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

"I  tell  you  I  said  nothing  to  her  at  all!"  an 
swered  Tom  stubbornly.  "If  you  ask  her,  she'll 
tell  you  so  herself." 

Selby  rubbed  his  chin  and  returned  the  cigar  to 
his  mouth.  He  had  not  intended  to  precipitate  a 
quarrel  with  Tom. 

"What  was  the  trouble  about?"  he  demanded. 

"Ask  her,"  answered  Tom,  feeling  that  the  least 
he  could  do  was  to  be  loyal  to  a  lady  who  had  made 
him  an  avowal. 


372       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Selby  twisted  the  cigar  around  in  his  mouth. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  finally.  "Perhaps  it's 
none  of  my  business.  A  little  lovers'  quarrel,  may 
be?" 

Tom  shook  his  head. 

Selby  turned  color. 

"Say,  you  don't  mean  you  ain't  in  love  with 
Pauline,  do  you?" 

"That  is  the  fact,"  answered  Tom  shortly. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  the  manufacturer.  He 
sank  helplessly  into  the  armchair.  "What  on 
earth  you  been  hangin'  around  Her  all  summer  for? 
I  thought  you  were  as  good  as  engaged." 

"I  like  your  daughter  very  much,"  said  Tom 
with  dignity.  "But  that's  entirely  different  from 
getting  married  to  her." 

"You  must  have  thought  I  was  dead  stuck  on 
you!"  declared  Mr.  Selby  with  a  shade  of  disgust. 
"Look  at  the  business  I  offered  to  give  you.  Did 
you  suppose  I'd  do  that  for  any  young  feller  that 
just  came  along?  Dear  me!  This  is  awful!" 

He  smoked  dejectedly  during  an  embarrassed 
interval  of  several  minutes.  Then  he  looked  up 
at  Tom  with  an  effort  at  geniality. 

"Look  here!"  he  began  good-naturedly.  "I 
imagine  things  ain't  so  bad  that  they  can't  be 
mended.  I  guess  Pauline  was  a  little  too  much  in 
a  hurry.  You  musn't  mind  that!  Of  course,  you 
like  her !  Everybody  likes  her.  She's  a  sweet, 
fine,  noble  girl,  and  she's  all  her  mother  and  me 
has  got.  We  couldn't  be  happy  a  minute  without 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       373 

she  was  happy.  She  sets  a  store  by  you,  I  know 
that.  You  got  to  get  married  sometime.  Now, 
why  not  Pauline?  She'll  be  a  rich  girl  some  day." 

He  looked  eagerly  at  Tom's  face. 

"I  don't  want  to  marry  for  money,"  replied  Tom, 
with  a  sharp  prick  of  his  almost  dormant  con 
science. 

"It  ain't  marryin'  for  money!"  Mr.  Selby  as 
sured  him.  "I  wouldn't  suggest  your  marryin' 
Pauline  without  you  loved  her.  But  nobody  could 
help  lovin'  Pauline.  Come  now,  think  it  over! 
There  ain't  a  smarter,  prettier  girl  to  be  found  any 
wheres  than  my  little  Pauline!" 

Tom  shook  his  head. 

"It's  no  use,  Mr.  Selby,"  he  answered,  "I  don't 
love  your  daughter.  I  can't  marry  her." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  At  length  Mr.  Selby 
said  very  slowly: 

"Listen  here,  Mr.  Kelly!  I'll  give  you  a  million 
dollars  in  cash,  if  you'll  marry  my  daughter." 

Tom  turned  half-sick.  It  had  been  one  thing  to 
play  with  the  idea  of  marrying  for  money;  it  was 
another  to  discover  that  he  was  the  kind  of  person 
whom  others  believed  would  deliberately  sell  him 
self  for  money.  It  was  a  refined  distinction,  but  it 
was  nevertheless  true  that  for  the  first  time  he  saw 
the  degrading  position  in  which  his  conduct  had 
placed  him.  He  was  dizzy,  faint,  nauseated  almost. 

"No!"  he  groaned.     "No!" 

His  coat  and  tall  hat  were  lying  upon  the  sofa 
and  he  put  them  on  hurriedly. 


374      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Well,  I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything — "  began 
Mr.  Selby  apologetically,  but  Tom  had  fled.  The 
old  man  shook  his  head  several  times  with  a  puz 
zled  air.  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that? "he 
remarked  to  his  cigar.  "Well!"  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "Poor  Pauline!"  And  he  sighed 
deeply. 

Tom  made  his  way  down  the  marble  staircase 
to  the  hotel  office  like  one  who  walks  in  his  sleep. 
He  hardly  knew  where  he  was  going,  his  only  idea 
being  to  escape  from  the  tentacles  of  the  Selbys. 
He  was  half  blind  from  headache  and  in  addition 
he  was  almost  ill  with  disgust  and  shame.  Auto 
matically  he  walked  to  the  bar  and  drank  a  glass 
of  whiskey.  It  still  lacked  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  to  seven,  and  he  sat  down  in  a  corner  and 
ordered  another  whiskey  and  a  siphon  of  carbonic. 
The  Selby  situation  had  blown  wide  open,  no  more 
tips  on  Chicle,  no  more  orders  on  commission.  He 
now  clearly  perceived  his  actual  relationship  to 
these  people  whose  guest  he  still  was.  Luckily  he 
could  terminate  his  dependence  upon  the  Selby 
hospitality.  He  could  and  would  at  once  call  for 
his  bill  at  the  office  and  pay  it  himself.  To-morrow 
he  would  take  rooms  somewhere  else — unless  some 
thing  happened  with  Lulie.  He  would  tell  her 
about  his  experiences,  and  it  might  incline  her  to 
be  more  acquiescent  in  his  wishes.  He  did  not  ask 
himself  what  those  wishes  were  exactly;  he  merely 
knew  that  their  relationship  couldn't  go  on  as  it 
was.  He  was  all  alone  in  the  great  city  except  for 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       375 

Lulie,  and  he  was  solitary  and  miserable.  She  was 
the  only  person  that  meant  anything  to  him. 

A  new  element  crept  unexpectedly  into  his  feel 
ings  toward  her — a  longing  to  be  with  her  simply 
because  she  was  friendly  and  interested  in  his  wel 
fare — a  desire  to  be  somewhere  where  he  belonged, 
or  at  least  was  understood.  Unconscious  of  the 
fact,  Tom  suddenly  began  to  be  homesick  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  He  filled  his  tall  glass  from 
the  siphon  and  drank  half  of  it,  and  for  some  reason 
it  made  the  ache  over  his  eye  seem  less  acute,  al 
though  his  whole  head  buzzed  and  throbbed.  He 
began  to  pity  himself.  The  Selbys  had  treated 
him  badly,  had  wilfully  misconstrued  a  frank  and 
disinterested  friendship.  Pauline  was  a  man-hunter 
cheated  of  her  prey.  Her  father  had  deliberately 
kicked  him  out  into  the  street  because  he  refused 
to  be  bought.  A  million  dollars !  He  ground  his 
teeth  impotently,  refusing  now  to  admit  that  he 
had  laid  himself  open  to  the  accusation  of  being 
a  fortune-hunter.  They  were  a  cold-blooded  lot, 
these  rich  parvenus!  A  rotten  bunch,  that  New 
port  crowd ! 

He  arose  uncertainly  and,  making  his  way  to  the 
office,  demanded  his  bill.  He  was  amazed  to  find 
that  it  amounted  to  over  a  hundred  dollars.  While 
paying  it  he  recalled  his  promise  to  telephone  to 
Wertheim  at  Schenectady.  Well,  he  couldn't  get 
any  more  tips  from  Selby.  Wertheim  would  have 
to  decide  for  himself  what  to  do.  Under  the  cir 
cumstances  the  broker  had  better  sell  in  London 


376       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

next  morning  before  the  opening.  He  would  call 
him  up  from  Lulie's  and  suggest  his  doing  so.  With 
this  in  mind,  he  requested  the  mail-clerk  to  forward 
by  messenger  any  telegram  that  might  come  for 
him  to  Mrs.  Wingate's,  whose  address  he  wrote 
down  upon  a  card. 

As  he  drove  in  the  heavy  rain  up  Fifth  Avenue 
to  Fifty-seventh  Street  he  felt  that  only  to  be  near 
Lulie  again  would  make  him  infinitely  happy.  At 
the  door  of  her  apartment  the  butler  helped  him 
off  with  his  coat  and  took  his  hat  and  overshoes. 

"Mrs.  Wingate  wished  me  to  tell  you,  sir,"  said 
the  man,  "that  on  account  of  the  bad  weather 
she  has  ordered  dinner  in  the  apartment." 

Tom  endeavored  to  show  no  concern  on  receiving 
this  announcement,  but  that  Lulie  should  of  her  own 
accord  have  anticipated  his  desires  filled  him  with 
excitement  and  trepidation.  Had  something  come 
over  her  ?  Was  she  really  afraid  of  the  wet,  or  was 
the  rain  merely  an  eagerly  seized-upon  excuse? 
At  least  he  was  to  have  the  opportunity  of  forcing 
the  issue  with  her  without  having  to  manufacture 
or  insist  upon  an  occasion.  His  heart  pumped  dis- 
quietingly  as  he  followed  the  butler  down  the  hall 
way  and  across  the  threshold  of  her  drawing-room. 

"Mr.  Kelly/'  announced  the  avant-courier  with 
a  crisp  English  accent,  and  stepped  back  and  out. 

A  fire  of  sea-coal  was  glowing  upon  the  hearth, 
the  soft  light  from  a  couple  of  shaded  lamps  fell 
upon  the  gilded  binding  of  books  and  silver  frames, 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  warm  and 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       377 

heavy  with  the  fragrance  of  the  roses  he  had  sent 
her  that  afternoon.  To  come  thus  out  of  the  drab, 
rain-swept  avenue  into  the  mellow  comfort  of  this 
feminine  boudoir  in  itself  went  far  toward  satis 
fying  the  physical  yearning  Tom  had  been  feeling 
for  some  place  to  which  he  belonged — for  some 
thing  more  personal  than  the  foyer  or  bar  of  a 
great  hotel,  and  he  interpreted  this  merely  physical 
catlike  satisfaction  as  an  evidence  of  the  necessity 
he  felt  for  having  Lulie  near  him.  Indeed  the 
transition  from  storm  to  lamplight,  from  loneliness 
to  the  sense  of  companionship,  from  emotional 
discomfiture  to  the  feeling  of  instinctive  sympathy 
brought  the  hot  tears  welling  to  his  tired,  red  eyes, 
and  set  his  chin  to  quivering  as  Lulie  turned  to 
him  with  a  smile  from  where  she  was  lying  on  a 
chaise-longue  before  the  fire. 

"Well  Tom!"  she  said,  and  her  voice  seemed 
to  wreathe  itself  about  him  in  an  embrace,  "I 
thought  perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  staying  here 
with  me—  '  she  paused  inquiringly.  "Why,  you 
poor  boy!  WTiat  is  the  matter?" 

Her  tone  was  so  kind  and  sympathetic  that  it 
tore  away  the  last  barrier  of  his  self-control.  By 
her  very  gentleness  she  accomplished  that  which  a 
less  moral  quality,  however  alluring,  might  have 
failed  to  achieve.  Giving  way  utterly  to  fatigue, 
loneliness,  and  spiritual  dejection,  Tom  threw  him 
self  on  his  knees  before  her  and  buried  his  face  in 
her  lap. 

"Oh,  Lulie!"  he  sobbed,  "I'm  so  miserable!" 


378       THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

"You  poor,  poor  boy!"  she  answered,  stroking 
his  hair.  "What  has  upset  you  so?  You  seemed 
quite  happy  only  last  night." 

He  pressed  closely  to  her  without  answer.  Just 
what  her  feelings  toward  this  pompous,  egotistical, 
yet  somehow  attractive  boy  were  she  could  not 
have  told.  She  liked  him — probably  because  he 
liked  her.  He  was  a  "decent  sort,"  and  she  had 
lured  him  on  instinctively,  ready  to  play  with  him 
to  the  limit.  He  amused  her.  He  thought  he  loved 
her.  But  if  she  unconsciously  entertained  any  con 
tempt  for  him,  his  childish  abandonment  and  ap 
parent  helplessness  momentarily  brought  out  all 
that  was  good  in  her. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Tom!"  she  murmured  gently, 
caressing  his  temples  with  her  hands.  She  had 
never  before  given  any  such  sign  of  affection  for 
him.  Had,  indeed,  hardly  felt  any.  She  had  played 
the  game  on  the  basis  of  being  the  pursued — en 
deavoring  to  outwit  her  pursuer  and  keep  him  at 
arm's  length.  And  now  because  he  had  come  to 
her  for  consolation  she  had  taken  him  in  her  arms, 
her  better  self  paving  the  way  for  her  worst  self 
to  follow.  Thus  angels  sometimes  unlock  the  door 
by  which  devils  enter  the  fortress  of  the  soul. 


XXIX 

SOON  he  became  calmer.  The  touch  of  LuhVs 
cool,  light  fingers,  the  faint  smell  of  hyacinths  that 
permeated  her  tea-gown  and  its  soft  texture  against 
his  cheeks  soothed  and  comforted  him.  He  felt  a 
new  tenderness  for  her.  Unconsciously  his  arm 
had  sought  her  waist,  and  now  he  drew  her  down 
toward  him  and  lifted  his  head  to  hers 

"Lulie!  You  do  love  me,  don't  you?"  he  be 
sought  her.  It  was  the  same  challenge  that  Pauline 
had  put  to  him  not  an  hour  before.  Instantly  her 
old  attitude  reasserted  itself.  She  was  quite  ready 
to  be  a  little  mother  to  Tom — to  any  one  really  in 
distress,  but  there  was  something  in  his  voice  that 
frightened  her.  She  realized  that  no  banter  would 
satisfy  him.  He  had  come  for  his  answer  and  no 
equivocation  would  suffice.  She  was  not  ready  to 
give  that  answer,  had  never  been  ready  to  give 
it  on  the  occasions  when  other  men  had  called  upon 
her  for  it,  and  her  woman's  instinct  of  self-pres 
ervation  drove  her  instantly  into  retreat. 

Drawing  gently  away  from  him,  she  shook  her 
finger  reprovingly  before  his  eyes. 

"You  mustn't  behave  this  way!"  she  declared. 
"The  servants  might  see  you.  Sh!  I  hear  one  of 
them  coming." 

379 


380       THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Tom  scrambled  to  his  feet  just  as  the  butler 
returned. 

"  Dinner  is  served,  madam,"  said  he.  Tom  of 
fered  Lulie  his  arm  and  led  her  to  the  dining-room, 
where  a  small  round  table,  gleaming  with  silver, 
and  just  large  enough  for  two,  was  laid  before  an 
other  of  the  soft-coal  fires  that  she  liked.  He  raised 
her  hand  as  it  lay  upon  his  arm  and  kissed  it  in 
the  hallway,  behind  the  butler's  back,  and  when 
he  soberly  took  his  place  a  moment  later  opposite 
her  at  the  table  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  act 
ing  a  part.  He  wasn't  a  mere  guest !  He  was  some 
thing  more.  It  was  just  as  if  he  and  she  were  married. 
If  they  were  married  he  would  be  coming  home 
every  evening  just  like  that,  and  probably  be  say 
ing:  "Well,  darling,  what  have  you  been  up  to  to 
day?" 

However,  he  was  very  careful  as  to  what  he  did 
say  to  her  before  the  butler,  and  only  allowed  him 
self  the  preliminary  liberty  of  pressing  her  foot 
gently  beneath  the  table.  While  the  oysters  were 
being  served  he  told  her  about  his  cruise  with  the 
Selbys  and  between  them  they  managed  to  keep 
the  conversation  going  on  a  politely  conventional 
basis  so  long  as  either  of  the  men  servants  was  in 
the  room.  The  stimulus  of  Lulie' s  presence  and  the 
relief  of  being  once  more  in  a  sympathetic  atmos 
phere  had  driven  away  his  headache,  and  he  was 
even  able  to  enjoy  the  delicious  meal  which  her 
chef  had  prepared.  He  drank  a  glass  or  so  of  cham 
pagne,  and  his  depression  passed  from  him  as  a 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       381 

cloud  shadow  drifts  across  a  summer  landscape. 
He  was  almost  happy — nervously  so,  but  happy. 
He  felt  that  in  spite  of  her  not  having  said  so,  Lulie 
must  love  him.  Wingate  had  made  a  wrong  diag 
nosis.  He  did  not  understand  his  wife.  What  he 
had  said  about  the  unfortunate  limitations  of  her 
upbringing  might  have  been  true  enough,  but  as 
to  her  sincerity  he  was  entirely  wrong.  He  was 
a  jealous  ass,  that  was  all. 

Tom  emptied  his  champagne-glass  as  fast  as  the 
butler  replenished  it,  failing  to  observe  that  Lulie 
hardly  touched  hers.  He  had  a  feeling  of  posses 
sion  regarding  her,  of  almost  proprietary  right  in 
her  apartment.  He  belonged  there.  Had  he  not 
discarded  Pauline  and  her  fortune  for  her?  His 
act  at  that  moment  seemed  to  him  almost  noble. 
He  had  made  a  great  sacrifice,  had  thrown  away  a 
career  all  for  a  woman.  As  he  gazed  at  her  across 
the  table  through  half -lowered  lids  he  told  himself 
that  she  was  worth  it.  His  glance  lingered  on  her 
slender  neck  and  white  sloping  shoulders — the  tiny 
lobe  of  her  ear  as  it  peeped  firm  beneath  the  black 
undulating  masses  of  her  rebellious  hair.  He  had 
difficulty  in  restraining  himself  from  getting  up 
from  the  table  and  clasping  her  in  his  arms.  Oh, 
well!  He  could  wait  until  the  butler  should  have 
left  them  for  good.  Lulie  smiled  with  arch  eyes 
at  him,  under  lids  raised  significantly  at  the  glass 
which  he  was  lifting  to  his  lips.  He  drained  it  with 
a  laugh,  however.  To-night  he  would  do  as  he 
liked  about  wine  and — everything  else. 


382       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

He  lit  a  cigarette  with  the  salad,  and  gave  him 
self  over  to  the  delicious  contemplation  of  Lulie's 
features  and  such  of  her  figure  as  was  visible.  What 
white  little  hands  she  had!  And  what  a  piquant 
little  nose!  The  champagne  was  doing  its  work- 
so  were  the  many  weeks  of  idleness,  high  living, 
and  frivolity  that  he  had  spent  in  that  circle  which 
Parradym  had  called  "the  spindrift"  of  society, 
the  spray  blown  by  the  winds  of  fortune  from  the 
crests  of  life's  waves. 

Lulie  had  passed  through  several  similar  experi 
ences,  not  all  of  them  pleasant.  Her  different  vic 
tims  had  acted  quite  differently  when  she  had  re 
fused  to  pay  the  price  of  their  adoration,  and  for 
that  reason  had  deliberately  broken  the  spell  of 
her  own  enchantment.  Some  had  meekly  accepted 
their  fate,  others  had  become  abusive,  but  all  had 
taken  the  denouement  as  the  anticlimax  of  a  game 
where  anticlimaxes  were  within  the  code.  But 
with  Tom  Lulie  realized  it  was  somehow  different 
and  the  realization  terrified  her,  particularly  as 
she  saw  his  confidence  growing  under  the  influence 
of  the  champagne. 

She  was  not  ready  to  let  him  go — did  not  wish 
to  break  with  him — but  her  emotions  were  not 
ripe  for  anything  else  as  yet.  Wingate  had  been 
very  good  to  her,  more  than  forbearing.  She  knew 
she  had  treated  him  abominably.  Tom  was  nothing 
but  a  boy!  It  was  really  only  his  passion  for  her 
that  attracted  her  to  him.  Its  strength  she  did  not 
doubt  She  knew  that  at  that  moment  she  could 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       383 

have  done  with  him  as  she  liked.  He  would  have 
jumped  out  of  the  window  had  she  asked  him  to 
do  so,  and  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  surrender 
the  fascination  of  her  power  over  him.  She  was 
ready  neither  to  yield  to  him  or  to  dismiss  him,  and 
being  unwilling  to  do  either  she  recognized  that 
momentarily — in  spite  of  herself — Tom  might  be 
come  a  factor  in  a  situation  which  she  could  no 
longer  control.  So  instead  of  leaving  the  table 
at  the  end  of  dinner  she  ordered  coffee  and  liqueurs 
in  the  dining-room,  and  lingered  on  hoping  to  post 
pone  until  later  what  she  now  in  terror  recognized 
as  the  inevitable.  When  the  moment  arrived  she 
did  not  know  what  she  was  going  to  do.  If  she 
could  only  delay  it  long  enough,  she  told  herself 
fatuously,  something  might  happen. 

The  butler  had  been  sent  away  and  still  Lulie 
dallied  on  at  the  table,  its  mahogany  top  a  safe 
barrier  against  Tom's  ardor.  He  had  been  leaning 
on  his  elbows  devouring  her  with  his  eyes  while  she, 
like  Saharazade,  talked  against  time.  Suddenly  he 
got  up. 

"Why  sit  here?"  he  demanded  suggestively. 
" Isn't  there  any  better  place?" 

Her  heart  fluttered  in  spite  of  herself.  What 
was  she  going  to  do  with  her  young  Turk,  now  that 
he  believed  himself  to  be  her  master?  Yet  she 
had  no  logical  excuse  for  sitting  half  the  night  at 
a  dinner-table  from  which  the  dishes  had  not  yet 
been  removed.  So  Lulie  slowly  arose 

"What  a  long  time  we  have  talked!"  she  ex- 


384      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

claimed  as  if  in  surprise,  although  her  wrist  watch 
had  kept  her  fully  informed  of  the  passing  of  the 
hours.  "Why,  it's  after  ten  o'clock !" 

She  was  on  the  point  of  finding  an  excuse  for 
hinting  that  he  should  go  home,  but  the  absurdity 
of  it  was  too  apparent.  No,  Tom  intended  to  bring 
things  to  a  head,  and  if  there  were  to  be  a  scene  it 
must  not  be  in  the  open  drawing-room. 

"You  haven't  seen  my  little  library,"  she  said, 
and  she  led  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  corridor, 
and  threw  open  the  door  of  a  small  room  furnished 
entirely  in  rose.  It  was  a  boudoir  rather  than  a 
library,  although  a  small  bookcase  filled  with  de 
luxe  volumes  gave  it  a  colorable  claim  to  the  latter 
designation.  A  thick  carpet,  a  couple  of  upholstered 
chairs,  a  tabaret  holding  a  gold  box  of  cigarettes, 
an  ornately  gilded  mirror,  several  lamps  shaded 
in  rose,  and  a  divan  with  hangings  of  the  prevailing 
color  made  up  its  inventory.  The  reflection  of  the 
lamplight  upon  the  draperies  and  carpet  gave 
heightened  color  to  Lulie's  cheeks,  and  made  her 
seem  as  ravishing  to  Tom  as  a  beautiful  gypsy  girl. 
It  was  the  same  effect  as  had  been  produced  by  the 
curtains  in  the  hallway  of  the  bachelor  wing  at 
"  Beausejour  "  the  first  time  he  had  held  her  in  his 
arms.  He  recalled  the  scene  vividly. 

Lulie  struck  a  match  and  lighted  the  tip  of  a 
cone  of  incense  that  stood  before  a  little  jade  god 
on  the  top  of  the  bookcase,  and  a  thin  blue  column 
of  vapor  rose  tremulously  toward  the  ceiling.  A 
strange,  Oriental  odor  floated  through  the  room. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       385 

Lulie  pushed  the  cigarettes  toward  Tom,  lit  one 
and  threw  herself  at  full  length  among  the  cushions 
of  the  divan.  She  felt  curiously  that  fate  had  taken 
the  game  out  of  her  hands — that  she  was  only  a 
pawn.  Her  actions  had  become  automatic. 

Tom  closed  the  door. 

"Do  you  know  when  I  last  saw  you  look  like 
that?"  he  inquired  meaningly. 

She  shook  her  head  and  let  the  smoke  of  her 
cigarette  pour  slowly  from  her  delicate  nostrils. 

"In  the  passage — that  night — at  'Beausejour' !" 

She  smiled,  and  put  one  of  her  arms  behind  her 
head. 

"You  were  very  bad  that  night !" 

"Not  half  so  bad  as  I  can  be!"  he  informed  her, 
sinking  into  a  chair  beside  the  divan.  "Not  half 
so  bad  as  I'm  going  to  be!" 

"You  mustn't  talk  that  way!"  she  answered 
nervously.  "You  are  going  to  behave  yourself 
quite  properly  after  this.  In  fact  I  am  going  to 
scold  you  a  little  for  the  way  you  have  been  acting 
the  last  few  days.  It  really  must  stop." 

"Stop!"  cried  Tom.  "Stop!  Why,  it's  only 
begun!" 

He  arose  and  seated  himself  on  the  divan  beside 
her.  The  last  cordial  he  had  taken  had  made  him 
a  little  dizzy — or  was  it  Lulie?  The  moment  had 
come.  He  would  know  where  he  stood.  She  would 
have  to  choose  between  him  and  Wingate.  He 
assured  himself  that  he  would  gladly  sell  his  im 
mortal  soul  for  her. 


386      THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Lulie !"  he  whispered,  leaning  over  her,  "Lulie ! " 
and  tried  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 

All  real  desire  to  resist  had  gone  from  her,  but 
temporizing  still,  she  lifted  the  hand  which  held 
her  cigarette  above  her  head. 

"Look  out!"  she  cried,  laughing.  "You'll  be 
burned." 

"I'm  burnt  to  a  crisp  already !"  he  cried,  dragging 
her  to  him  and  pressing  his  lips  to  her  hair. 

Steps  sounded  in  the  hall  outside,  and  there 
came  a  rap  upon  the  door. 

"Excuse  me,  madam/'  said  the  muffled  voice  of 
the  butler,  "but  I  have  a  telegram  for  Mr.  Kelly." 

Tom  swiftly  extricated  himself. 

"Curse  Wertheim!"  he  cried,  but  he  smoothed 
his  hair  and,  opening  the  door,  removed  the  yellow 
envelope  from  the  salver  in  the  man's  hand. 

"Excuse  me!"  he  muttered  and  ripped  it  open 
impatiently.  At  first  he  found  difficulty  in  focussing 
his  eyes,  and  he  stepped  over  to  one  of  the  lamps. 
It  did  not  bear  Wertheim's  name — that  was  funny ! 
Suddenly  his  vision  cleared. 

Your  mother  is  dying.    Come  home. 

BRIDGET  MALONE. 


XXX 

AT  first  he  thought  there  must  be  some  mistake, 
that  the  telegram  could  not  have  been  meant  for 
him.  Who  was  Bridget  Malone?  The  name  was 
unfamiliar.  And  then  much  as  if  some  huge,  icy 
wave  had  dealt  him  a  terrific  blow  and  hurled  him 
along  gasping  for  air  and  staggering  for  a  footing, 
the  meaning  of  these  six  black  words  on  this  yellow 
sheet  crashed  down  upon  him,  tearing  at  his  brain 
with  iron  claws. 

His  mother  was  dying.  The  telegram  was  from 
Bridget  the  cook.  He  had  never  known  her  last 
name.  His  mother  was  dying  with  only  an  ignorant 
Irish  servant  at  her  bedside  where  he  should  have 
been.  She  might  already  have  passed  away — alone, 
neglected.  He  gave  a  half  sob,  half  groan  of  anguish. 
Mother !  He  saw  her  little  figure  lying  there  in 
the  walnut  bed,  the  old  knitted  shawl  across  her 
body,  her  patient  face  gazing  toward  the  Madonna 
upon  the  wall.  Again  he  groaned,  hiccoughing 
forth  meaningless  words  of  love  and  remorse.  He 
no  longer  knew  where  he  was.  He  did  not  see  Lulie, 
nor  hear  her  voice  asking  him  sharply  what  was 
the  matter.  He  did  not  smell  the  incense  or  the 
cigarette  smoke  of  that  erotic  atmosphere. 

Uttering  great,  shaking  sobs,  he  groped  his  way 

387 


388       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

toward  the  door  of  the  apartment.  There  was  a 
train  for  Boston  at  eleven  o'clock — he  must  catch  it. 
He  stumbled  to  the  hallway,  threw  his  overcoat  over 
his  arm,  and  put  on  his  shiny  tall  hat.  He  had 
but  fifteen  minutes  to  catch  the  train.  Slipping 
and  half  falling,  he  hurried  down  the  stairs  to  the 
street.  It  was  still  raining,  half  an  inch  of  slush 
covered  the  pavement.  He  had  forgotten  his  over 
shoes  and  had  on  only  his  low-cut  patent-leather 
pumps  and  orange-silk  stockings.  There  was  no 
time  to  wait  for  a  street-car  or  to  seek  a  cab.  Sob 
bing  and  whimpering,  he  floundered  forth  and  ran 
down  the  Avenue — a  ridiculous  and  painful  figure 
— at  one  instant  splashing  through  a  mud  puddle, 
at  the  next  clutching  at  a  lamp-post  to  save  himself 
from  falling.  Once — opposite  the  Cathedral — he 
did  fall  and  his  hat  rolled  in  the  gutter,  but  he 
fished  it  out  and  kept  on  with  no  thought  but  to 
catch  the  train.  He  began  to  sweat  profusely  while 
the  cold  rain  soaked  through  his  shirt  front  and 
ran  down  his  body.  His  legs  were  drenched  to 
above  his  knees.  His  breath  came  only  in  painful 
gaps.  The  policeman  and  ticket  seller  gazed  at 
him  strangely  as  he  rushed  to  the  window  to  buy 
his  ticket,  thinking  him  just  another  drunken  col 
legian  returning  home  after  a  debauch.  It  was 
fortunate  that  he  had  enough  money.  Then  he 
drew  on  his  overcoat  and  walked  to  the  train,  a 
garter  dangling  below  his  trouser  leg  and  a  gardenia 
drooping  from  his  buttonhole. 
The  thought  of  sleep  was  anathema.  He  pulled 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       389 

his  hat  down  over  his  forehead,  thrust  his  feet  into 
the  corner  of  the  opposite  seat,  and  stared  fixedly 
at  the  windows  as  the  train  rattled  through  the 
night.  Self-revelation  had  come  to  him.  He  saw 
himself  as  he  was,  and  the  sight  filled  him  with 
loathing.  Had  it  not  been  possible  that  his  mother 
was  still  alive  he  would  probably  have  thrown 
himself  to  his  death  between  the  wheels. 

It  was  inconceivable  that  his  mother  should  be 
really  dying.  She  was  rarely  ill;  an  unusually 
vigorous  woman  for  her  age.  He  tried  to  comfort 
himself  with  the  idea  that  the  telegram  might  be 
an  overstatement  of  the  situation  due  to  panic  on 
the  part  of  Bridget  the  cook.  Probably  his  mother 
had  had  an  attack  of  indigestion  or  something  and, 
being  alone  in  the  house  with  her,  Bridget  had  be 
come  hysterical.  But  she  shouldn't  have  been 
there  alone  with  her.  He  should  have  been  there 
himself  with  his  mother.  It  was  unbelievable  that 
such  retribution  should  be  visited  upon  him — that 
the  last  and  greatest  of  a  long  life  of  efTacements 
would  occur  without  his  having  had  a  chance  to 
explain  to  her!  He  had  not  meant  to  neglect  her, 
he  had  merely  wished  to  take  advantage  of  his  op 
portunities  to  make  a  career.  Opportunities?  For 
what  ?  Making  a  beast  of  himself !  A  career  ?  As 
a  cheap  bounder,  a  hanger-on  of  wealthy  people, 
a  "pet  cat,"  a  parasite!  Sitting  there  in  the  half 
darkness,  he  reviewed  the  various  sordid  episodes 
of  the  past  six  months,  his  low  intrigue  with  Lulie, 
his  mercenary  affair  with  the  Selbys,  his  humiliat- 


390       THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY 

ing  connection  with  Mrs.  Jones,  the  whole  disgust 
ing  performance  at  Newport  where  he  had  posed 
as  a  sophisticated  man  of  the  world,  and  his  dallying 
with  debauchery  during  the  last  few  weeks,  while 
his  mother  had  been  gradually  becoming  more  and 
more  feeble,  until  now  she  was  dying.  He  was 
rotten  all  through.  A  heartless,  cold-blooded 
sycophant!  And  now  he  was  being  punished  for 
it.  His  mother  was  being  taken  from  him  without 
his  having  even  an  opportunity  to  beg  her  forgive 
ness.  He  raised  his  hands  involuntarily  in  the  dim 
light,  crying  out  his  repentance  to  God: 

"Forgive  me !    Forgive  me !    Forgive  me !" 

The  colored  porter  peering  from  the  vestibule 
of  the  car  wondered  at  the  strange  sight  of  a  di 
shevelled  man  in  a  dress  suit  and  tall  hat  gesticulat 
ing  and  uttering  unintelligible  sounds. 

"Oh,  mother!  Mother!  Forgive  me!"  the  man 
kept  repeating.  "Oh,  God!  Forgive  me !" 

At  last,  exhausted,  his  head  fell  against  the  corner 
of  the  seat  and  he  slept.  But  his  sleep  was  broken 
and  fitful,  until  in  the  early  dawn  he  fell  into  a 
profound  slumber  in  which  he  dreamed  that  it  was 
morning,  and  that  the  train  had  reached  Boston. 

He  hurried  to  the  platform,  hired  a  cab  and  drove 
to  the  house  on  Newbury  Street.  The  sidewalks 
were  deserted  and  the  curtains  were  still  down  in 
all  the  windows  of  the  neighboring  houses.  Sick 
with  fear,  he  looked  for  the  knob  of  the  bell  to  see 
if  there  were  crape  upon  it.  There  was  none,  but 
the  bell-plate  was  iridescent  from  neglect,  and  the 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       391 

name  "Kelly"  almost  black.  He  paid  the  driver, 
a  somnolent  night-hawk,  and  crossed  the  uneven 
red  brick  of  the  sidewalk.  Well,  at  least  he  was 
in  time.  His  mother  was  still  alive !  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  was  as  he  had  hoped — merely  a  case  of  panic. 
His  sense  of  relief  was  unutterable. 

He  sprang  up  the  stone  steps  and  almost  joyfully 
entered  the  tiny  vestibule,  the  door  of  which  was 
ajar.  And  then  his  hand  touched  something  soft 
but  rough,  and  he  drew  back  with  a  stifled  cry,  for 
on  the  knob  of  the  door  hung  a  long  black  flaunting 
horror — the  barbaric  flag  of  death. 

He  awoke  with  a  shriek  and  found  himself  cower 
ing  between  the  seats  of  the  sleeping-car,  with  the 
New  England  autumn  landscape  sweeping  smoothly 
by  bathed  in  sunlight  beneath  a  sky  blue  and  peace 
ful  as  that  of  midsummer. 

"  Thank  God ! "  he  muttered.     "  Thank  God ! " 

There  was  a  stirring  all  along  the  berths  as  their 
occupants  prepared  to  make  their  exits.  Collarless 
men,  clasping  bundles  of  heterogeneous  clothing  to 
their  bosoms,  pushed  their  way  along  the  aisle. 
The  porter  came  by  with  an  expectant  brush,  say 
ing  "  Boston  in  twenty  minutes !"  The  train  passed 
Blue  Hill  and  Tom  recognized  the  observatory; 
then  it  entered  the  nearer  suburbs  and  presently 
was  crossing  the  streets  of  the  West  End.  He  had 
turned  his  back  upon  the  occupants  of  the  car, 
realizing  the  spectacle  which  he  presented,  but  he 
did  not  care.  His  only  thought  was  to  escape  from 
the  train  as  soon  as  possible.  He  must  get  home. 


392       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

Would  he  be  in  time  or  would  his  dream  prove  to 
be  true?  Dreams  went  by  contraries,  he  told  him 
self.  But  there  was  nothing  upon  which  he  could 
pin  the  hope  that  his  mother  was  still  alive  except 
the  vague  impression  that  people  didn't  die  quickly 
like  that.  It  took  quite  a  long  time — even  if  you 
were  going  to  die,  and  so  far  there  was  no  reason 
to  suppose  his  mother  actually  was  going  to  die. 

"Boston!    Boston!" 

Stiff  and  lame,  Tom  turned  up  his  coat  collar, 
and  left  the  car  followed  by  many  amused  and 
significant  glances.  Among  the  line  of  awaiting 
cabbies,  one  seemed  familiar  to  him,  and,  nodding 
to  the  man,  he  followed  him  to  his  blowzy  hack 
and  clambered  inside.  It  was  stuffy  with  a  com 
bination  of  stale  beer  and  damp  rug.  The  man's 
head  appeared  in  the  window  as  he  inquired  the 
address,  and  in  that  instant  Tom  recognized  him 
as  the  cabby  in  his  dream — the  somnolent  night- 
hawk — there  was  no  doubt  of  it.  It  was  the  same 
ramshackle  cab,  the  same  moth-eaten  rug.  An 
uncanny  fear  crept  up  his  spine.  Had  he  experi 
enced  what  he  had  heard  Aunt  Eliza  call  a  "warn 
ing"?  Had  he  lived  over  in  his  dream  what  he 
now  was  to  experience  in  fact?  Such  things  were 
of  record.  Was  his  mother  already  dead,  then? 
They  were  rattling  over  the  cobblestones  without 
making  much  headway — the  action  of  the  cab- 
horse  appearing  to  be  vertical  rather  than  horizontal, 
and  Tom  opened  the  door  and  urged  the  man  to 
go  faster.  He  felt  that  he  must  get  out  and  run. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       393 

They  reached  Boylston  Street  and  then  the  Public 
Garden.  He  was  almost  there  now.  In  his  dream 
Newbury  Street  had  been  deserted,  the  curtains 
down.  He  scanned  the  windows  apprehensively. 
Yes,  it  was  so — just  like  the  dream.  His  heart 
sank.  Tom  stepped  to  the  sidewalk  and  paid  the 
man,  without  looking  around.  The  cab  was  half 
a  block  away  before  he  dared  raise  his  eyes  to  the 
front  door.  It  was  ajar,  but  the  stained  bell-plate 
and  the  name  "Kelly"  were  as  he  had  dreamed 
them.  He  climbed  up  the  steps  with  trembling 
knees  and  paused,  unable  to  bring  himself  to  look 
inside  the  vestibule.  Inch  by  inch  his  glance  stole 
along  the  door  until  it  reached  the  handle.  There 
was  no  crape  there.  His  mother  was  alive!  The 
reaction  was  intense.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  relief 
came  the  sickening  thought  that  fate  might  be 
fooling  him  just  as  it  had  fooled  him  in  the  dream. 
The  dream  had  been  all  true  so  far,  why  not  that 
too?  Suspiciously  he  searched  out  every  nook  and 
cranny  of  the  vestibule.  No,  there  was  no  crape 
anywhere.  Thus  he  stood  shivering  alternately 
with  relief  and  fear  on  his  own  door-step,  like  a  dis 
solute  stranger  after  a  prolonged  debauch,  with 
stained  and  disordered  clothes,  his  hair  hanging  in 
strands  across  his  forehead,  his  face  gaunt,  his  eyes 
hollow  and  bloodshot — ignorant  whether  his  mother 
were  alive  or  dead,  and  doubtful  whether  or  not  to 
ring  the  bell.  And  as  he  hesitated  the  knob  rattled 
and  Bridget  Malone  opened  the  door. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  manner  different  from  her 


394       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

usual  one,  and  her  hair  was  done  in  a  strange  way; 
and  he  instantly  realized  that  her  costume  and  get- 
up  were  in  recognition  of  some  new  condition  of 
affairs  demanding  greater  formality.  His  fears 
returned.  Bridget  had  not  spoken  to  him,  but  her 
face  wore  a  look  of  helpless  sorrow.  Tom  tried  to 
speak  but  only  gave  vent  to  a  sort  of  cluck.  Then 
he  stammered  in  a  thick  tone: 

"Is  she — is  she — "  he  could  not  finish. 

Bridget  shook  her  head. 

"Your  mither  is  still  alive,"  she  answered  stiffly. 
Then  she  gave  a  sob  and  cried  out  brokenly: 

"Oh,  Tom!  Tom!  Don't  go  to  her  like  that 
wid  the  marks  of  yer  sin  upon  ye !  Don't  go  to  her 
in  yer  shame !  Put  on  some  of  the  ould  clothes  in 
the  closet  and  go  to  her  as  she  knew  ye — her  own  !" 

Thus  for  the  first  time  did  Tom  know  the  full 
depths  of  his  degradation. 

With  swimming  eyes  he  tiptoed  up  the  stairs 
to  the  little  back  room,  which  had  been  his  from 
the  time  that  he  was  old  enough  to  sleep  alone  until 
he  had  gone  to  college.  He  had  always  thought  of 
it  as  ample  and  comfortable.  It  had  always  had 
the  same  straw  carpet  upon  the  floor,  the  same 
white  iron  bed  with  the  wooden  slats,  the  same 
pine  wash-stand  stained  with  intersecting  rings 
left  there  by  a  couple  of  generations  of  tooth-mugs. 
There  were  no  curtains  and  no  pictures  upon  the 
walls,  but  it  was  clean.  From  the  single  window 
he  could  see  the  familiar  chimney-pots  of  the  houses 
on  Commonwealth  Avenue  that  he  had  watched 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       395 

from  his  bed  every  morning  for  nearly  twenty 
years.  It  was  all  exactly  the  same,  but  now  it 
seemed  as  small  as  a  prison  cell.  Yet  it  had  a  quality 
of  actuality,  seemed  bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of 
his  flesh.  To  touch  the  iron  bed  was  like  touching 
his  own  foot.  It  was  the  nearest  feeling  he  would 
ever  have  of  belonging  to  the  soil.  Here  he  be 
longed. 

These  thoughts  flashed  in  a  single  impression 
across  his  mind  as  he  entered  and  began  to  rum 
mage  in  the  closet  for  a  change  of  clothes.  There 
was  nothing  there  except  the  old  high- water  trousers 
and  the  jacket  with  the  abbreviated  sleeves  that 
he  had  worn  his  freshman  year  at  college,  but,  like 
the  room,  they  seemed  to  be  part  of  himself,  and 
he  dragged  them  forth,  tore  off  his  dress  suit  and 
put  them  on.  If  he  could  only  discard  his  recent 
past  as  easily  as  he  could  cast  off  these  trappings 
of  his  humiliation.  If  only  by  stepping  out  of  these 
new  clothes  and  donning  the  old  he  could  rehabili 
tate  his  character!  He  could  not  shed  the  skin 
of  degradation,  yet  this  changing  of  his  outer  gar 
ments  was  the  preliminary  to  a  baptism  of  sorrow. 
He  was  ready  now  to  go  to  his  mother,  leaving  his 
shoes  at  the  door  of  the  temple.  Racked  by  grief 
and  bowed  by  self-abasement,  he,  nevertheless,  as 
a  consequence  of  this  simple  act  which  had  somehow 
taken  on  a  symbolic  character,  felt  himself  less 
contaminated,  less  defiled.  As  he  descended  the 
stairs  he  ran  his  left  hand  tenderly  along  the  cheap 
pine  balustrade.  There  on  the  painted  wall  beside 


396       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

him  were  the  finger-prints  his  tiny  hands  had  made 
as  a  child,  too  numerous  to  be  eradicated.  How 
many  times  he  had  seen  his  mother  come  out  of 
the  door  below,  at  the  foot  of  that  flight  of  stairs, 
and  heard  her  call  up  to  him:  "Tom,  are  you  coming 
down  to  see  mother!"  He  choked  and  the  tears 
blinded  him.  He  was  going  down  to  see  mother 
probably  for  the  last  time.  "Oh,  God !"  he  moaned 
aloud,  "Oh,  God!  Don't  let  mother  die!" 

The  door  of  her  room  was  closed  and  a  new  fear 
seized  him.  Perhaps — but  he  thrust  his  misgivings 
aside  and  turned  the  knob.  He  had  expected  to 
see — what  sometimes  he  had  seen  before — his 
mother  propped  up  in  bed,  surrounded  by  bottles 
and  basins,  looking  desperately  ill  and  giving 
evidences  of  much  physical  suffering.  Usually 
on  these  rare  occasions  there  were  one  or  two  old 
women  rocking  disconsolately  in  corners  or  offi 
ciously  rendering  ambiguous  services — Aunt  Eliza 
or  some  of  the  cousins.  The  room  had  always 
been  overheated  and  had  smelled  of  alcohol,  gruel, 
and  medicines. 

Now  for  a  moment  he  thought  that  he  must  be 
in  the  wrong  room.  It  was  bright  with  sunlight, 
and  seemed  almost  empty.  The  air  was  cool  and 
fresh.  All  the  knickknacks  and  useless  furniture 
had  been  removed.  No  cardboard  remembrances 
dangled  from  the  gas-jets.  Somehow  it  frightened 
him  to  see  the  room  so  neat  and  bare — as  if  its 
contents  had  been  or  were  about  to  be  "put  away" 
forever. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       397 

A  trained  nurse  in  a  stiffly  starched  dress  arose 
from  beside  the  bed  and  came  toward  him,  holding 
a  watch  in  her  hand.  She  gave  an  almost  imper 
ceptible  nod,  seeming  to  expect  him. 

"I  will  leave  you  with  her,"  she  said  simply, 
and  went  out. 

At  first  Tom  did  not  recognize  his  mother.  Could 
that  be  she — that  fragile  figure  among  the  pillows 
— that  wisp  of  thistle-down?  Was  that  small, 
shrunken,  brown  face  hers?  Were  those  wrinkled 
cheeks  the  ones  he  had  kissed  as  a  little  child? 
He  took  a  step  nearer.  She  was  upon  her  back, 
her  thin  gray  hair  lying  about  her  face,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  some  point  above  his  head.  Her  breath 
came  irregularly.  He  could  hardly  see  any  move 
ment  of  the  coverlid.  He  sank  beside  the  bed, 
sought  and  found  her  hand  amid  the  sheets. 

"Mother!"  he  whispered,  and  all  the  repressed 
love  of  twenty  years  surged  into  his  heart.  "  Mother ! 
I'm  here!  Tom!" 

The  delicate  hand  tightened  upon  his,  but  there 
came  no  change  upon  her  face.  She  was  looking 
at  something  across  the  room  upon  the  wall,  and 
her  glance  never  wavered.  He  wondered  that  her 
eyelids  did  not  flicker. 

"It's  me— Tom!"— he  repeated,  throttling  his 
grief.  "Your— boy!" 

He  watched  her  face  hungrily  for  some  sign  of 
recognition.  What  was  she  looking  at  with  such 
patient  intentness?  Did  she  want  something? 
No,  her  expression  was  too  full  of  peace.  His  eyes 


398       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

followed  hers,  toward  the  same  riffles  of  sunlight 
upon  the  ceiling  that  he  had  peered  at  as  a  child, 
dancing  and  melting  into  one  another,  to  where, 
below,  hung  the  picture  of  the  Madonna  holding 
the  child  in  her  arms,  her  great  eyes,  full  of  a  sad 
and  tender  mystery,  gazing  down  upon  them.  Over 
the  door  the  red  worsted  motto  enjoined  him  as 
of  old  to  look  and  be  saved.  He  turned  back  again 
to  his  mother's  face.  She  was  staring  at  the  Ma 
donna  as  if  waiting  for  her  to  do  something — step 
down  out  of  the  frame  perhaps — or  to  speak.  Then 
presently  as  if  she  had  seen  what  she  expected  to 
see,  a  little  smile  gathered  around  her  lips  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  with  a  tiny  sigh  of  contentment. 

As  if  at  an  altar-rail,  Tom  continued  to  kneel  and 
hold  his  mother's  hand.  He  was  numb  with  sorrow, 
overwhelmed  and  dumb  in  the  presence  of  ap 
proaching  death  which  had  already  drawn  a  cur 
tain  between  his  mother  and  himself.  He  had 
come  too  late !  Retribution  had  fallen  upon  him. 

He  could  never  repay  the  debt  he  owed  her. 
She  had  given  her  life  for  him.  Sleeping  and  waking 
for  twenty  years  he  had  been  her  only  thought,  her 
only  care.  She  had  saved  and  slaved  for  him. 
And  what  had  he  done  for  her  in  return?  He  had 
been  ashamed  of  her !  The  brutal  truth  stared  him 
in  the  face.  He  had  thought  of  her  as  old-fashioned, 
fussy,  ill-educated — vulgar  almost.  He  bit  his  lips 
and  his  eyes  burned  with  hot  tears.  Could  she 
ever  have  been  young  and  pretty?  He  had  thought 
her  so,  as  a  child.  He  remembered  how  firm  and 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       399 

smooth  and  cool  her  face  had  been  when  she  had 
come  up  to  kiss  him  good  night  in  the  old  days. 
Once  she  had  been  twenty  like  himself,  full  of  strange 
stirrings  and  romantic  dreams !  He  winced  as  he 
recalled  the  girlish  "pieces"  she  had  played  to  him 
upon  their  jangling  old  upright  piano.  And  some 
where  in  a  dusty  corner  was  a  harp !  She  had  told 
him  of  "parties"  and  "sleigh-rides"  that  she  had 
participated  in  as  a  young  lady.  Then  she  had 
fallen  in  love  with  his  father,  and  in  anguish  had 
borne  him — Tom — to  be  her  idol,  her  joy — the  real 
ization  of  all  her  hopes  and  yearnings.  Her  uni 
verse  had  centred  about  him.  And  now  she  was 
dying! 

The  little  body  beside  him  stirred  uneasily  and 
a  flicker  of  discomfort  passed  over  her  face.  Was 
she  suffering?  Should  he  call  the  nurse?  Unut 
terable  anguish  possessed  him.  Still  holding  her 
hand,  he  rose  upon  one  knee  and  leaned  over  the 
bed.  Something  was  troubling  her.  Her  lips  moved 
noiselessly.  Was  she  calling  him?  Was  she  at 
last  conscious  of  his  presence  ?  He  prayed  fervently 
that  she  was.  The  sunlight  dimmed  for  a  moment, 
then  blazed  forth  again.  At  the  same  instant  Tom 
experienced  a  sensation  of  there  being  some  one 
else  besides  his  mother  in  the  room — the  nurse  per 
haps.  He  looked  over  his  shoulder  but  there  was 
no  one  there.  The  nurse  had  not  come  back.  His 
mother  was  twisting  now  from  side  to  side  rest 
lessly,  impatiently,  but  not  as  if  in  pain.  It  was 
rather  as  if  she  wished  to  speak  to  some  one,  but 


400       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

could  not  make  herself  heard.  Once  she  lifted  her 
head  and  turned  it  directly  sideways. 

"  Mother ! "  moaned  Tom.    "  Dear  mother ! " 

But  she  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard  him.  Pres 
ently  she  fell  back  into  her  former  position  with 
an  expression  of  trust  and  confidence  on  her  face 
like  that  of  a  happy  child. 

"  Mother ! "  she  murmured  gently,  as  if  speaking 
to  some  one  beside  the  bed. 

She  lay  still  after  that  for  a  long  time,  contented. 
Tom  kneeled  again.  She  had  not  released  his  hand, 
but  he  knew  that  it  was  not  of  him  that  she  dreamed. 
She  had  done  her  duty  by  him,  had  given  him  her 
love,  and  now  that  she  was  going  home  it  was  her 
own  dear  mother  of  whom  she  thought,  whose  hand 
would  lead  her  safely  through  the  shadows. 

"Mother!"  she  sighed  again. 

Suddenly  she  opened  her  eyes  and  lifted  her 
head  toward  the  Madonna,  staring  at  her  expec 
tantly  for  a  second  or  two.  And  then  her  head  fell 
back  upon  the  pillow  and  she  died. 

Tom  was  aroused  by  the  touch  of  the  nurse's 
hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  go  away  for  a  few  minutes," 
she  said. 

He  arose  stupidly.  A  hurdy-gurdy  had  begun 
playing  "The  Irish  Washer-woman"  half-way 
down  the  block.  With  a  last  look  at  his  mother's 
face  he  turned  to  the  door.  It  was  over !  He  had 
parted  from  her  forever  in  this  world.  He  was 
alone.  Automatically  he  felt  his  way  down-stairs 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       401 

to  the  kitchen.  Bridget  was  sitting  rigidly  by  the 
mixing-table  in  her  best  clothes.  He  noticed  the 
tin  match-box  painted  blue  hanging  from  its  nail 
by  the  clock — the  match-box  in  which  Bridget 
had  kept  the  crumbs  to  make  him  wise!  Wise 
indeed !  She  arose  at  his  step  and  waited. 

"It's — all  over!"  he  whimpered,  and  threw  him 
self  down  at  the  table,  his  head  on  his  outstretched 
arms,  sobbing  violently. 

"I  killed  her!"  he  groaned  harshly.  "I  killed 
her!" 

The  old  cook  laid  her  hand  on  his  head. 

"No,  Tom!"  she  replied.  "Ye  did  not  kill  yer 
mither!  Do  not  accuse  yourself  of  that.  Ye  neg 
lected  her,  'tis  thrue  enough,  but  ye  did  not  kill 
her.  She  would  not  like  ye  to  say  that !  'Tis  women's 
lot  in  this  world  to  give  and  suffer  and  bear  childer. 
'Tis  their  pain  and  their  joy  as  well.  Ye  cannot 
pay  yer  debt  to  yer  mither,  Tom,  save  to  yer  own 
childer,  just  as,  mayhap,  she  paid  her  debt  to  her 
own  mither  with  her  love  to  you.  There's  not  one 
of  us,  Tom,  that  doesn't  owe  everything  he  is  to 
all  them  other  mithers  that  has  gone  before  us." 

He  raised  his  head  to  her,  the  tears  streaming 
down  his  face. 

"You're  all  the  mother  I've  got  left,  Bridget!" 
he  said. 


XXXI 

TOM'S  mother  was  buried  in  Mt.  Auburn  Ceme 
tery  on  an  Indian  summer  day  with  big  cumulus 
clouds  floating  slowly  across  an  expanse  of  peerless 
blue.  He  had  lived  through  the  intervening  period 
in  a  sort  of  dream,  a  dream  that  had  had  something 
of  delirium  in  it,  for  he  had  caught  a  severe  cold  on 
the  train,  and  had  been  running  a  high  temperature 
for  several  days.  Just  how  he  had  got  through  these 
days  he  did  not  know.  But  they  held  many  sur 
prises  for  him  regarding  his  mother. 

At  the  funeral  in  St.  Agnes's,  the  church  was 
crowded  with  hundreds  of  people  of  every  social 
grade  who  had  respected  and  loved  her,  and  who 
felt  real  pity  for  him  now  that  she  was  gone.  Many 
wrote  him  letters  of  sympathy  which  showed  plainly 
how  little  he  had  really  understood  or  appreciated 
her.  Apparently  she  had  supported,  or  at  least 
assisted  in  supporting,  dozens  of  worthy  but  in 
digent  persons,  including  widows  and  aged  clergy 
men,  as  well  as  girls  and  boys  trying  to  secure  an 
education.  All  this  she  had  done  out  of  an  income 
so  attenuated  that  it  could  hardly  have  paid  the 
gas  bill  of  one  of  Tom's  recent  friends.  He  read 
the  letters  in  bitter  contrition  of  spirit,  for  these 

402 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       403 

recipients  of  her  charity  had  evidently  valued  her 
far  more  than  had  he. 

Yet  alone  he  followed  the  little  coffin  up  the 
aisle,  and  alone  he  followed  it  down  again,  with 
the  words  of  St.  Paul  echoing  in  his  ears  and  thrilling 
his  heart.  He  had  boasted  of  being  a  materialist, 
was,  he  still  told  himself,  a  materialist.  But  with 
the  rolling  of  the  organ,  the  mellow  light  filtering 
through  the  stained-glass  windows,  the  scent  of 
the  flowers,  and  the  rows  of  tender  faces  filling  the 
church,  he  could  not  acknowledge  that  his  mother 
was  gone  from  him  forever.  Indeed,  he  felt,  cu 
riously,  as  if  she  had  never  been  so  living  before; 
for  he  saw  her  in  a  new  aspect  as  she  really  had 
been,  as  she  always  would  be  to  these  hundreds  of 
beneficiaries,  old  and  young,  a  protectress  of  the 
poor  and  of  the  fatherless,  beloved  by  them  all 
despite  her  homely  limitations  of  speech  and  manner. 
How  trivial  these  now  seemed  to  him !  That  spirit 
of  love  that  had  manifested  itself  in  his  mother 
would  never  die.  The  little  flower-covered  shell 
that  was  being  carried  on  ahead  of  him  was  not 
his  mother,  any  more  than  the  steel  engraving  of 
the  Madonna  in  her  room  had  been  the  real  Ma 
donna.  He  could  tear  the  picture  up  or  burn  it, 
but  her  eyes  would  remain  forever  looking  down 
upon  him,  as  he  knew  they  were  at  that  moment, 
in  sweet  compassion.  There  was  no  analogy  in 
the  thought,  he  knew  perfectly  well,  but  in  a  strange, 
mysterious,  sad,  yet  half -happy  way,  the  idea  of 
immortality  and  of  the  eyes  of  the  Madonna  and 


404       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

his  mother  were  somehow,  as  he  walked  with  bent 
head  slowly  down  the  aisle,  all  mixed  up  together. 
He  didn't  feel  that  his  mother  was  dead  at  all.  He 
thought  of  her  now  as  he  remembered  her  as  a 
child,  young,  with  brown  hair  and  smooth  cheeks, 
and  with  such  loving  eyes,  eyes  just  like  those  of 
the  Madonna  in  the  picture.  Tom  no  longer  felt 
alone.  He  felt  that  his  mother  was  nearer  and 
dearer  to  him  than  ever  before — would  always 
be  so.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  had  found  her  at 
last. 

There  was  only  a  handful  of  people  at  the  grave 
to  witness  the  laying  to  rest  of  the  earthly  part  of 
the  self-effacing  woman  who  had  never  in  her  life 
been  the  recipient  of  so  much  attention  as  was 
being  accorded  to  her  now.  It  was  a  beautiful 
spot,  overhung  with  willows  and  surrounded  by 
golden  oaks  and  scarlet  and  yellow  maples.  He 
noticed  that  there  were  some  women  there — some 
of  his  mother's  relatives,  he  supposed — but  they 
stood  back  upon  the  path  and  left  him  at  the  grave 
beside  the  clergyman,  who  briefly  read  the  inter 
ment  service.  As  the  coffin  was  lowered  Tom  fully 
realized  for  the  first  time  that  his  mother  was  ac 
tually  gone,  and  he  experienced  a  benumbing  sense 
of  his  bereavement.  He  felt  an  almost  uncontrol 
lable  desire  to  throw  himself  upon  the  grave  and 
cling  passionately  to  the  earth  that  was  about  to 
separate  her  from  him.  But  his  New  England 
heredity  restrained  him,  and  tearless,  yet  with 
parched  throat,  he  listened  quietly  until  it  was  over. 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       405 

Well,  his  dear  mother  was  at  rest  at  last  beside  the 
only  other  man  whom  she  had  loved. 

"Thomas  Kelly" — his  own  name.  Some  day 
he,  too,  would  be  lying  in  a  grassy  plot  beneath 
a  similar  marble  stone,  marked  with  these  precise 
words;  and  perhaps  still  another  Thomas  Kelly 
would  be  gazing  at  it !  It  gave  him  a  strange  feel 
ing  as  if  the  Thomas  Kelly  already  there  were  in 
reality  himself,  or  that,  in  some  part  at  least,  they 
two  were  the  same  person.  He  stared  stupidly  at 
the  grave  while  these  and  a  thousand  other  thoughts 
danced  in  his  brain.  Presently  he  was  aware  that 
the  clergyman  was  extending  his  hand  and  ex 
pressing  his  sympathy.  Tom  took  the  hand  and 
mumbled  some  perfunctory  words  of  thanks  in 
reply.  Then  the  clergyman  moved  away  and  Tom 
was  alone  at  his  mother's  grave.  It  was  time  for 
him  to  go  and  leave  her,  just  as  he  had  always  been 
leaving  her,  only  this  time  he  would  not  find  her 
waiting  for  him  on  his  return.  There  would  be 
only  a  mound  of  faded  grass  and  a  headstone,  like 
the  others — marked  "Caroline  Maria  Kelly."  And 
this  thought  bred  its  converse,  that  now  it  was  not 
he  who  was  leaving  her,  but  she  who  was  leaving 
him.  He  would  now  suffer  as  he  had  made  her 
suffer.  Involuntarily  he  half  stretched  out  his  arms 
toward  the  grave,  then  he  let  them  fall,  and  stood 
motionless. 

He  stood  thus  a  long  time,  so  long  that  the  few 
mourners,  who  had  been  present,  silently  departed, 
and  the  grave-diggers  moved  about  uneasily  among 


406       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

the  neighboring  tree  trunks.  He  seemed  to  see  his 
mother's  eyes  looking  down  upon  him  from  some 
where,  or  were  they  those  of  the  Madonna?  Did 
every  mother — every  woman — have  eyes  like  the 
Madonna's  ? 

"Tom,  dear  Tom!" 

He  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his  arm  and  discovered 
those  same  eyes — full  of  infinite  pity,  gazing  into 
his  own.  Evelyn's ! 

"Poor  Tom!  Dear  Tom!"  she  whispered.  On 
her  own  lashes  hung  tears  of  sympathy.  He  sought 
her  hand  and  held  it. 

After  a  little  while  she  said  softly:  "You  must 
come  away.  I  know  how  hard  it  is,  but  you  must 
come  away."  She  moved  back  a  few  paces,  and  he 
sank  on  his  knees  beside  the  grave  for  the  last  time. 
Then  he  arose  resolutely  and  crossed  to  where 
Evelyn  stood  with  her  father,  and  waved  aside  the 
hack  which  had  been  waiting. 

"May  I  walk  along  back  with  you?"  he  asked. 
"There's  nobody  at  home  now  but  Bridget." 

He  smiled  a  pathetic  smile. 

Silently  they  followed  the  grass-bordered  paths 
of  the  cemetery  until,  at  length,  they  came  out 
upon  Mt.  Auburn  Street  and  could  see  the  River 
Charles  winding  among  the  autumnal  reds  and 
yellows  of  the  salt  marshes.  A  couple  of  gulls 
flickered  high  in  the  air,  specks  of  gleaming  white, 
and  a  cool,  fresh  breeze  drew  in  from  the  unseen 
harbor.  Along  the  road  the  big  elms  bent  friendly 
heads,  letting  fall  a  scattering  tribute  to  the  coming 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       407 

frost.  There  was  a  bite  in  the  air,  the  eager  nip  of 
the  east  wind  that  Tom  had  known  as  a  boy,  and 
he  rilled  his  aching  lungs  with  it  in  deep  breaths. 
Countless  times  before  had  he  walked  along  that 
very  road. 

It  seemed  incredible  that  he  could  have  been 
away,  even  more  incredible  than  that  his  mother 
was  dead.  Both  seemed  incredible.  Yet  he  knew 
that  he  would  not  find  her  on  his  return  to  the 
little  house  on  Newbury  Street,  and  he  knew,  in 
a  way,  that  what  now  seemed  to  him  like  a  strange, 
oppressive,  noxious  dream  had  been  an  actual 
experience,  not  in  his  own  existence,  but  in  that 
of  another  and  different  Thomas  Kelly,  as  distinct 
as  the  Thomas  Kelly  lying  behind  there  in  the 
cemetery  beside  his  mother.  He  felt  physically 
weak  and  limp;  all  confidence  had  gone  from  him. 
He  was  like  a  child  willing  to  be  led,  timid,  dis 
trustful  of  its  own  ability  to  think  or  do  for  itself. 

The  shadows  were  lengthening  as  they  turned 
up  Ash  to  Brattle  Street.  At  the  corner  he  bade 
them  good  night  and  with  set  teeth  strode  on  alone 
staring  straight  ahead  of  him.  His  heart  was  like 
lead;  his  mind  a  gloomy  cavern  of  regrets.  So  he 
stalked  on  through  Harvard  Square  and  down  Cam 
bridge  Street  and  out  upon  Harvard  Bridge. 

One  by  one  the  lamps  broke  out  against  the 
brick  sky-line  of  the  Back  Bay.  He  recalled  those 
countless  evenings  when  as  a  small  boy  he  had 
lingered  out  beyond  the  time  allowed,  and  had 
returned  home  to  find  his  mother  anxiously  await- 


408       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

ing  him.  There  would  be  no  mother  waiting  for 
him  now.  The  little  home  would  be  empty — save 
for  its  crowded  memories.  There  would  not  even 
be  a  light  in  the  window.  Must  he  go  back  to  that 
silent  house  ?  He  bit  his  lips  and  hurried  on.  Yes, 
he  must  go  back.  It  was  but  the  beginning  of  his 
penance. 

It  was  dark  when  he  reached  the  Beacon  Street 
side  of  the  bridge,  and  as  he  walked  along  he  could 
look  through  the  lighted  windows  into  comfortable 
"reception-rooms,"  "libraries,"  or  "front  parlors," 
where  by  shaded  lamps  sat  men  and  women,  girls 
and  boys.  In  some  of  them  he  could  see  the  fire 
light  flickering  upon  the  walls.  Bitterly  he  turned 
away  that  he  might  not  see  the  happiness  of  those 
inside.  If  he  had  been  kinder  to  his  mother  perhaps 
she  might  have  still  been  waiting  for  him  beside 
just  such  a  fire !  That  was  the  thought  that  pur 
sued  him  and  crushed  his  heart. 

As  he  neared  the  house  he  could  hardly  persuade 
his  feet  to  enter.  To  open  the  door  would  be  like 
entering  his  mother's  tomb.  For  a  fleeting  moment 
he  had  a  vague  idea  of  taking  the  midnight  train 
back  to  New  York,  but  the  thought  revolted  him. 
He  was  through  with  all  that  at  any  rate !  He  had 
shaken  the  dust  from  his  feet.  The  prodigal  had 
returned — too  late  perhaps — but  still  he  had  re 
turned  to  his  own — to  his  inheritance,  whatever  it 
was.  This  was  his  home,  shabby,  prosaic,  but  still 
his  home — where  he  belonged. 

Automatically  he  followed   the  curbing  around 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       409 

the  front  grass  plot  that  led  to  the  steps.  They 
seemed  to  him  higher  than  when  he  had  climbed 
them  as  a  boy.  In  the  lane  of  sky  between  the 
roofs  hung  a  little  crescent  moon,  the  same  little 
moon  he  had  used  to  see  when  lying  in  his  mother's 
arms.  He  did  not  feel  a  day  older  than  when  he 
had  thus  lain  there  so  happily.  Poor  mother! 
Then  with  an  effort  he  gathered  himself  together. 
He  could  read  the  name  "Kelly"  quite  plainly 
by  the  light  of  the  street-lamp.  His  name — "Kelly  "  ! 
That  was  he — "Kelly."  This  was  his  house,  his 
place,  his  earth.  "You  are  now  Kelly,"  the  plate 
seemed  to  say  to  him.  "Here  is  where  you  belong. 
Here  you  are  exactly  what  you  are  and  nothing 
else.  No  pretense  will  avail  you !" 

He  pulled  the  bell,  just  as  his  father  had  done 
so  many  thousands  of  times  before  him,  and  heard 
its  faint  jangle  in  the  distant  recesses  of  the  kitchen. 
Again  he  felt  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him 
to  enter  that  silent,  empty  house.  He  would  go 
to  a  hotel — anywhere,  and  return  in  the  morning. 
But  the  door  was  almost  immediately  opened  by 
Bridget. 

"There's  a  gintleman  waitin'  for  ye,  Tom,"  she 
said  expectantly.  "He  was  on  the  steps  whin  I 
come  home." 

"A  gentleman!"  repeated  Tom,  astounded. 

"He's  from  Noo  York,  he  says,"  the  old  cook 
answered.  "A  frind,  he  says,  and  that  it  will  be 
all  right.  So  I  lighted  the  gas  fer  him  in  the 
parlor!" 


410       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

There  was  a  strange  derby  hat  lying  upon  the 
walnut  rack  and  an  unaccustomed  silk  umbrella 
in  the  stand.  Tom  hurried  up  the  narrow  stairs, 
mechanically  avoiding  the  pie-shaped  trap  on  the 
landing  (which  had  been  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Trollop's 
debacle),  and  entered  the  parlor. 

Parradym  rose  to  greet  him. 

"Oh,  Parry!"  cried  Tom,  and  then  he  choked. 
It  was  kind  of  the  old  boy  to  come  all  the  way  on 
to  Boston. 

"I  only  heard  this  morning,"  he  explained,  taking 
Tom's  hand,  "or  I  should  have  come  before.  I 
thought  you  might  be  a  bit  lonely  and  that  if  I 
could  be  of  any  help 

Tom  perceived  that  there  were  tears  in  the  old 
bachelor's  eyes.  Good  old  Parradym!  How  he 
had  misjudged  him !  Hardly  conscious  of  his  act, 
Tom  put  both  arms  around  his  friend  and  laid  his 
head  on  his  shoulder. 

"Oh,  Parry!"  he  repeated  over  and  over  again. 
"Why  did  I  ever  leave  her?" 

The  older  man  patted  him  on  the  head. 

"I  did  the  same  thing.  Every  man  does.  And 
some  day  each  of  us  drinks  the  waters  of  repentance 
just  as  you  are  doing  now.  You're  not  the  only 
man,  Tom,  that  has  neglected  somebody  who  loved 
you — even  if  that  is  small  consolation.  You'll  pay 
your  debt  to  her  to  some  one  else,  your  debt  of 
honor." 

As  Tom  made  ready  for  supper  it  occurred  to  him 
that  only  a  few  people — a  dozen  or  so  friends  like 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       411 

Allyn — knew  the  real  Parradym.  The  rest  of  the 
world  accepted  the  old  fellow  for  a  selfish  parasite, 
not  suspecting  that  that  bland,  noncommittal  ex 
terior  concealed  a  generous,  kindly,  sympathetic 
nature.  There  weren't  many  men  who  would  do 
that  kind  of  thing  for  a  friend !  How  easy  it  would 
have  been  for  Parry  to  have  sent  him  a  telegram 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  Yet  he  had  not  waited,  had 
come  on  the  impulse  to  stand  by  a  lonely  boy  to 
whom  he  owed  nothing  and  from  whom  he  could 
expect  nothing  in  return. 

In  the  Kelly  dining-room  at  the  old  black  walnut 
table,  surrounded  by  the  dying  stags  upon  the 
walls,  Parradym  and  Tom  ate  supper  together, 
waited  on  by  faithful  Bridget.  It  was  the  same 
sort  of  supper  that  Tom  had  always  eaten  in  that 
room,  and  it  brought  back  to  him  vividly  his  moth 
er's  absence.  He  had  never  before  sat  there  without 
her.  Cold  meat,  baked  potatoes,  sliced  bread,  cake, 
apple  sauce,  and  cocoa,  even  the  "animal  crackers," 
from  the  remote  corner  of  the  biscuit-box,  were 
there  in  their  particular  plate. 

"Animal  crackers!"  murmured  Parradym,  "I 
haven't  had  one  for  twenty  years !" — and  he  helped 
himself  to  a  hippopotamus  with  as  much  gratifica 
tion  as  was  proper  under  the  circumstances. 

Before  the  end  of  the  meal  Tom  had  persuaded 
Parradym  to  stay  on  with  him  at  least  for  the  pres 
ent,  for  the  thought  of  continuing  to  live  there  in 
the  house,  alone  save  for  Bridget,  was  intolerable, 
and  accordingly  a  messenger  boy  was  despatched 


412       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

to  the  station  for  the  bachelor's  hand-luggage.  Then 
before  the  sea-coal  fire  in  the  library,  where  Tom  had 
sat  every  evening  at  his  lessons  when  a  boy,  the  two 
smoked  and  talked.  Every  corner  of  the  room  held 
some  recollection  for  Tom.  There  stood  the  gro 
tesque  statuette  of  Daniel  Webster  against  which 
at  the  age  of  four  he  had  fallen  and  bruised  his  eye; 
here  was  the  very  spot  on  the  table  where  his  father 
had  accidentally  burned  the  green  baize  cloth  with 
his  cigar.  There  was  the  old  clam-shell  ash-receiver 
with  the  two  black  comic  figures  done  in  silhouette; 
here  the  mouse-hole  once  inhabited  by  a  small 
rodent  addicted  to  the  delectable  binding  of  the 
Encyclopedia  Britannica. 

Parradym  examined  the  rows  of  books — with 
critical  interest. 

"Your  father  must  have  been  a  bookish  man, 
Tom,"  he  said  at  length.  "I  haven't  seen  as  well 
selected  a  lot  of  volumes  in  some  time.  I  fancy 
you  haven't  either.  I'm  sure  old  Selby  didn't  have 
any  weakness  for  Walter  Pater,  at  any  rate  he  didn't 
disclose  it  to  me.  I  wouldn't  exchange  my  own 
taste  for  books  for  anything  else  in  life.  I  should 
say  you  had  a  pretty  fine  heritage." 

Tom  shook  his  head  dejectedly. 

"I  sold  my  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage," 
he  answered.  "I'm  just  a  rotter.  I  don't  think 
my  mother  suspected  it  though,  that's  one  com 
fort.  But  you  know  it  and  I  know  it,  everybody 
else  knows  it.  And  nothing  I  can  do  now  can  ever 
make  up  for  what  I've  done !" 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       413 

Parradym  did  not  laugh  or  even  smile,  but  laid 
his  hand  affectionately  on  Tom's  knee  and  said: 

"I  know  how  you  feel.  I  don't  blame  you.  I 
shouldn't  think  half  as  much  of  you  if  you  didn't. 
But  you're  all  wrong,  lad!  To  me  you're  nothing 
more  than  a  child,  a  child  who's  taken  a  fall  or  two 
in  learning  to  walk,  and  who  hasn't  entirely  learned 
how  to  walk  yet.  Life's  all  before  you !  If  only  I 
were  twenty-two  again!  How  I  envy  you!  Envy 
your  sorrows,  your  disappointments,  your  failures — 
as  well  as  your  joys,  your  achievements,  your  suc 
cesses.  Envy  you  the  love  of  the  girl  who  will  some 
day  help  you  to  pay  the  debt  you  owe  to  your  mother 
and  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  make  you  the  home 
I  haven't  got." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  you  were  my  age,  you  young  jackanape,  you 

might  have  some  excuse  to  grumble,  but  at  yours 
{» 

"But — "  expostulated  Tom,  "do  you  think  any 
decent  girl  would  marry  me  if  she  knew  what  a 
cad  I'd  been?" 

Then  Parradym  smiled. 


XXXII 

OLD  Squire  Mason's  law  office  was  at  the  top  of 
a  dark  and  winding  flight  of  stairs  in  Barrister's 
Hall.  Tom  had  been  there  as  a  child  with  his  father 
and  had  dim  recollections  of  bookcases  with  glass 
doors  lined  with  green  silk,  a  little  bronze  paper 
weight  in  the  shape  of  a  horse,  and  a  very  old  man 
with  a  parchment-like  face  behind  a  pair  of  horn 
rimmed  spectacles.  The  morning  that  he  went  to 
Barrister's  Hall  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  his  mother's 
estate  he  found  nothing  changed  in  the  fifteen  years 
since  he  had  last  visited  the  lawyer's  office.  Squire 
Mason  was  sitting  now  just  where  he  had  been 
sitting  then,  his  nose  buried  in  a  pile  of  papers. 

"Oh — come  in!"  he  wheezed,  squinting  at  Tom. 
"Tom  Kelly?  Of  course.  Sit  down.  About  your 
mother's  will,  I  assume?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Tom,  feeling  like  a  very 
small  boy,  and  hardly  daring  to  sit  down,  which 
he  finally  did  in  a  corner. 

Squire  Mason  removed  and  wiped  his  spectacles 
and  then  unfolded  a  foolscap  paper  which  he  re 
moved  from  a  pile  of  similar  papers  surrounded  by 
a  piece  of  broad  green  tape. 

"Your  mother  was  a  very  remarkable  woman!" 

414 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       415 

he  announced  suddenly  and  rather  severely.  "I 
never  understood  how  she  managed  to  get  along  on 
her  income.  Under  your  father's  will  she  had  a 
perfect  right  to  spend  the  principal  of  the  trust  he 
created  for  her,  but  she  never  would.  On  the  con 
trary,  she  not  only  gave  away  a  great  deal  but  man 
aged  to  save  quite  a  little  sum." 

"I  hope  she  had  everything  she  wanted,"  said 
Tom  in  reply. 

"Her  only  thought  was  for  you"  answered  the 
old  lawyer.  "She  didn't  need  much  for  herself, 
and  she  wanted  less.  All  she  wished  was  to  keep 
a  home  for  you  and  give  you  the  best  education 
she  could.  I  hope  you  deserved  it." 

"I  didn't!"  Tom  confessed.  "I  didn't  appre 
ciate  her." 

"Urn!"  remarked  Squire  Mason,  looking  side 
ways  at  Tom  and  seeming  to  take  slightly  more 
interest  in  him,  for  he  added  in  a  kindlier  tone: 
"You  could  hardly  be  expected  to  appreciate  fully 
all  the  sacrifices  she  made  for  you — at  your  age. 
I  shall  not  offer  her  will  for  probate — for  you  are 
her  only  heir  at  law  and  next  of  kin,  and  your  father's 
will  is,  of  course,  already  a  matter  of  record.  She 
left  you  everything  she  had  saved — a  little  over 
three  thousand  dollars." 

He  turned  squarely  at  Tom. 

"Now,  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  and  throw 
this  money  away ! "  he  said  gruffly. 

Tom  let  his  eyes  fall  before  Squire  Mason's  search 
ing  gaze. 


416       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"The  money  is  mine?"  he  asked  hesitatingly. 
"To  do  exactly  as  I  want  to  with?" 

"Certainly — of  course  it  is." 

"And  you  are  my  lawyer — just  as  you  were 
hers?"  asked  Tom. 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so." 

Squire  Mason  pushed  his  spectacles  up  over  his 
forehead  and  peered  curiously  at  the  lad  from  be 
neath  them. 

"Then,"  announced  Tom,  "as  my  lawyer  I  want 
you  to  send  a  check  for  three  thousand  dollars  to 
Joseph  Wertheim,  of  the  firm  of  Wertheim  &  Wert- 
heim,  at  the  Waldorf  Astoria,  New  York." 

Squire  Mason's  face  grew  grim. 

"Been  gambling?" 

His  jaws  closed  with  a  snap.    Tom  nodded. 

"Yes,  but  not  exactly  the  way  you  think.  It's 
an  account  I  think  my  mother  would  want  me  to 
wipe  off,"  he  said  quietly. 

During  the  next  few  days  Tom  passed  many 
sad  and  lonely  hours  going  over  the  contents  of 
the  Newbury  Street  house,  deciding  what  he  should 
destroy  or  give  away,  and  what  he  should  keep. 
Parradym,  appreciating  that  this  was  a  task  which 
no  one  could  do  for  his  friend,  absented  himself 
on  long  walks,  leaving  Tom  to  perform  those  duties 
which  took  on  almost  the  character  of  sacred  rights. 
There  was  his  mother's  little  wooden  desk,  for  in 
stance.  For  a  long  time  he  could  not  bring  him 
self  to  touch  it,  full  as  he  knew  it  to  be  of  tokens  of 
her  care  and  affection.  Yet,  at  last,  one  bright 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       417 

morning  after  Parradym  had  gone  out,  he  entered 
his  mother's  bedroom,  and  under  the  eyes  of  the 
steel-engraved  Madonna,  unlocked  the  desk  and 
one  by  one  pulled  out  the  drawers.  His  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  contrition  as  he  discovered  in  neat 
little  packages  every  letter  that  he  had  ever  written 
to  her,  beginning  with  one  in  his  fourth  year  ad 
dressed  "Darling  mummer"  and  signed  "Tom" 
with  a  tiny  "t"  and  a  very  big  "m"  that  trailed 
off  in  zigzags  down  the  page.  Again  and  again  as 
he  came  upon  the  evidences  of  her  love — the  little 
keepsakes  he  had  given  her,  his  first  little  pair  of 
white  kid  shoes,  his  childish  "knitting"  done  through 
a  spool,  a  marble  or  two  (perhaps  the  very  ones  his 
father  had  picked  up  the  day  of  his  birth),  a  small 
rubber  doll,  he  laid  his  head  down  upon  his  arms, 
and  gave  way  utterly  to  his  grief. 

When  it  was  accomplished  he  left  the  chamber 
with  a  new  realization  of  the  sacred  character  of 
his  mother's  devotion.  He  perceived  the  real  depth 
of  her  instinctive  religious  feeling,  however  illogical 
and  petty  some  of  its  outward  expressions  might 
have  been — the  truth  of  her  homely,  oft-repeated 
phrase  that  she  would  rather  have  him  "good" 
than  "great."  Grimly  he  told  himself  that  he 
would  never  be  either,  and  yet,  nevertheless, 
already  felt  himself  stronger  for  her  unseen  in 
fluence. 

As  he  raised  his  eyes  to  those  of  the  Madonna 
above  his  head,  before  crossing  the  threshold  for  the 
last  time,  he  caught  sight  of  the  old  worsted  motto 


418       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

bearing  the  well-remembered  legend  of  "Look  unto 
me  and  be  ye  saved."  How  often  as  a  child,  as 
a  boy,  and  later  as  a  man  he  had  asked  himself 
what  there  was  to  be  saved  from.  Now  he  knew. 
His  mother's  death  had  taught  him  the  depth  of 
her  self-sacrifice,  had  saved  him  from  the  complete 
consequences  of  his  own  selfishness.  Again  there 
came  to  him  the  thought  that  had  hovered  in  his 
brain  that  feverish  morning  four  years  before  as 
he  lay  in  bed  after  his  episode  with  Peters,  that 
some  people  were  perhaps  saved  by  music,  and 
some  by  the  thought  of  their  mothers,  and  some  by 
the  love  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  after  all  perhaps 
it  was  all  a  part  of  the  same  thing.  He  had  been 
saved,  he  knew  that;  and  he  knew  also  that  it  was 
by  her  love  alone  that  he  had  been  saved,  a  love 
that  was  nothing  less  than  divine,  the  love  that  is 
the  gift  of  the  Madonna  to  all  mothers  and  is  the 
salvation  of  men. 

"  That  was  my  room ! "  said  Tom,  pointing  out 
to  Parradym  the  entry  of  Thayer's  Hall,  upon  the 
steps  of  which  he  had  loitered  during  so  many  com 
paratively  recent  hours.  "Those  two  windows  on 
the  left." 

A  lank  youth  was  sitting  upon  the  cushioned 
sill,  his  legs  propped  against  the  wall,  smoking  a 
long  meerschaum  pipe.  He  had  a  book  upon  his 
knees,  but  his  gaze  was  concentrated  upon  a  couple 
of  very  busy  gray  squirrels  who  were  scampering 
around  the  grass  under  the  nearest  elm.  Tom  felt 


THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY       419 

a  pang  of  jealousy  at  the  sight  of  this  other  chap 
who  now  occupied  the  room  where  he  had  frittered 
away  his  time  in  idle  ease.  They  had  walked  out 
one  afternoon  from  Boston,  for  Parradym  was  also, 
a  Harvard  man  and  had  expressed  a  desire  to  re 
visit  the  scenes  of  his  youth. 

"Wonderful  period — college  life!"  sighed  Par 
radym. 

"I  wish  I  thought  so,"  replied  Tom  sincerely. 
"I  know  that  I  got  precious  little  out  of  it.  First 
I  was  sore  because  I  thought  I  was  left  out  of  every 
thing,  and  didn't  have  sense  enough  to  know  that 
the  reason  was  because  I  ought  to  have  been  left 
out.  Then  I  got  'in'  by  accident  and  it  went  to 
my  head.  If  I  hadn't  got  in  I  might  have  dis 
covered  what  it  was  that  kept  me  out  and  taken 
pains  to  change." 

Parradym  chuckled : 

"Well,  you  seem  to  have  found  out!"  he  said 
good-naturedly. 

"At  a  price!" 

"It's  a  lesson  well  worth  the  cost,  isn't  it?" 

Tom  uttered  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"When  I  think  of  the  opportunities  I  chucked 
away " 

"  My  dear  boy !  That's  precisely  what  you  came 
here  for,  wasn't  it?  You've  learned  that  they 
were  'opportunities.'  You  can't  expect  to  learn 
everything  out  of  books!  Some  people  claim  that 
you  can't  learn  anything  out  of  them.  The  op 
portunities  are  still  yours.  You  haven't  even  begun 


420       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

to  get  ready  for  the  battle  of  life.  By  the  way, 
what  are  you  going  to  do,  anyhow?" 

They  had  crossed  Harvard  Street  and  could  see 
Dane  Hall,  the  building  devoted  to  the  Harvard 
Law  School. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Tom  slowly.  "I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  were  good  for  anything.  I  haven't 
said  much  about  it,  but,  frankly,  it  makes  me  sick 
to  think  of  myself!" 

"Come!  Come!"  retorted  Parradym  almost 
angrily.  "That's  no  way  to  talk.  What  do  you 
suppose  your  mother  would  want  you  to  be?" 

"A  lawyer — like  my  father,"  admitted  Tom. 

"Well—?"  hazarded  Parradym. 

At  that  moment  the  tall  form  of  Professor  Russell 
appeared  swinging  across  from  Jarvis  Field,  and  as 
he  approached  he  waved  at  them. 

"Hello!"  he  called.  "We  were  speaking  of  you 
only  to-day.  Are  you  thinking  of  entering  the  law 
school  this  autumn?  If  you  are,  you  ought  to 
register." 

Tom  presented  Parradym  and  the  three  strolled 
along  Harvard  School  together. 

"Kelly  has  an  idea  that  he  fooled  so  much  at 
college  that  he  isn't  fit  to  undertake  a  serious  job 
like  studying  law,"  suggested  the  bachelor. 

"Rot!"  replied  Russell.  "There's  a  curious 
thing  we  all  notice  out  here,  and  that  is  that  once 
a  man  enters  a  professional  school  he  sloughs  off 
all  the  foolishness  that  characterized  him  in  college 
and  gets  right  down  to  business.  In  fact  the  chaps 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       421 

that  were  the  laziest  in  college  often  make  the 
hardest  grinds  afterward — particularly  in  the  law 
school.  Perhaps  it's  because  they're  not  all  worked 
out  before  they  get  there.  Everybody  works.  If 
I  had  a  son  I  believe  I'd  send  him  there  just  as  a 
piece  of  mental  discipline.  I  don't  know  a  surer 
index  of  ability  than  to  get  an  "  A  "  at  the  law  school 
over  there. 

"Besides,  if  a  fellow  hasn't  done  his  best  perhaps 
he  ought  to  try  and  show  that  he's  got  the  stuff 
in  him  after  all,"  added  the  philosopher. 

"Come  and  see  us  soon!"  said  Russell.  "I've 
got  a  lecture."  He  nodded  and  turned  down  a 
path  while  Tom  and  Parradym  continued  on. 

"Wonderful  face  that  fellow  has!"  remarked 
Parradym,  looking  after  him. 

"If  I  had  only  had  sense  enough  to  appreciate 
what  he  told  me  in  my  freshman  year  I  wouldn't 
have  been  the  fool  I  have,"  admitted  Tom. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  yourself,"  commented 
Parradym.  "Experience  is  the  best  and,  generally, 
the  only  teacher.  You're  not  so  different  from  other 
fellows  of  your  age." 

The  afternoon  sun  had  turned  the  yellow  leaves 
of  the  elms  about  Memorial  Hall  to  glittering  gold 
as  they  mounted  the  steps  and  entered  the  cool 
and  shadowy  transept.  On  every  side  Tom  could 
read  inscribed  in  marble  the  names  of  the  Harvard 
men  who  had  died  for  the  cause  of  Liberty  in  1861. 
How  many  times  he  had  hurried  by  unthinkingly 
in  his  early  college  days !  The  names  had  seemed 


422       THE  WORLD   AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

then  only  a  part  of  the  mural  decorations  of  the 
great  refectory.  Now  they  had  a  deep  significance. 
These  men  had  paid  their  "debt  of  honor77  with 
their  youth,  had  unhesitatingly  thrown  away  their 
lives  to  perpetuate  the  ideals  of  the  college  that 
they  loved.  Silent,  he  removed  his  hat  and  Par- 
radym  did  the  same. 

"For  us!"  murmured  Parradym. 

They  climbed  into  the  gallery  and  looked  down 
upon  the  silent  hall  with  its  row  upon  row  of  empty 
tables,  deserted  save  for  a  solitary  scrub-woman. 
Through  the  great  windows  poured  the  autumn 
sunlight,  softening  the  features  of  those  other  Har 
vard  men  whose  portraits  hung  upon  the  walls, 
uniformed  officers  of  the  Revolution  and  the  Civil 
War,  judges  in  their  robes  of  office,  high-stocked 
dignitaries  of  an  olden  time,  students,  professors, 
former  presidents  of  the  college — sober,  stern,  solemn 
most  of  them  but  worthy  sons  of  a  great  mother. 

"A  fine  lot,"  said  Parradym.  "They  believed 
in  something,  and  they  lived  up  to  their  belief." 

They  slowly  retraced  their  steps  across  the  Yard 
past  Holworthy  Hall,  Hollis,  Stoughton,  and  Mas 
sachusetts,  and  in  the  square  they  separated,  Par 
radym  to  walk  back  to  Boston,  and  Tom  to  look 
for  Francis  True  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  the 
spring.  He  did  not  know  where  his  friend  was  now 
living,  but  opposite  his  name  in  the  college  catalogue 
was  a  near-by  address  upon  Brattle  Street  with  the 
information  that  he  was  studying  music  in  the 
graduate  school.  Tom  found  the  number  upon  a 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       423 

white  gate  in  front  of  an  old  colonial  house  with 
drawn  from  the  street  at  the  end  of  a  leaf-strewn 
lawn,  and  as  he  approached  the  half-open  door 
he  could  hear  the  sound  of  a  piano.  In  the  plain 
tive,  fluttering  notes  he  recognized  Nevin's  "Au 
tumn  " — one  of  Frank's  favorite  pieces.  It  was 
played  so  wistfully  that  Tom  wondered.  Frank 
had  always  been  gladness  personified.  The  piano 
stopped  and  Tom  stepped  across  the  threshold. 

"Oh— Frank!  "he  called. 

There  was  a  sound  of  awkward  footsteps  and  a 
door  opened  above. 

"Hello!    Who  is  it?"  came  Frank's  voice. 

"Me!    Tom  Kelly!" 

Frank  gave  a  cry  of  delight. 

"Come  up!  Come  up!"  he  shouted,  "I'm  ter 
ribly  glad  to  see  you !" 

Tom  leaped  up  the  stairs  and  grabbed  his  friend's 
hand. 

"You've  moved — you  old  sinner!"  he  said.  "I 
had  to  look  you  up  in  the  catalogue!" 

"Yes,"  answered  Frank.  "I'm  taking  an  ad 
vanced  course  in  music.  It's  what  I  really  care 
for,  you  know.  I  haven't  much  else." 

He  smiled  faintly. 

Tom  looked  at  him  quickly.  The  words  had  been 
uttered  quite  unconsciously,  were  not  a  bid  for 
sympathy,  but  for  Tom  they  unexpectedly  opened 
wide  the  doors  of  hope,  doors  which  he  believed  to 
be  tightly  locked.  He  did  not,  however,  imme 
diately  follow  the  lead  thus  given.  He  had  to  ad- 


424       THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS   KELLY 

just  himself  to  this  new  idea — that  Frank  had 
nothing  but  his  music.  He  had  always  supposed 
that  Frank  would  some  day  marry  Evelyn.  Cer 
tainly  she  had  always  shown  him  the  greatest  favor. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  their  friendship,  and 
then  that  night — Class  Day —  There  was  some 
thing  he  evidently  did  not  understand.  By  and 
by  he  came  back  to  it. 

"But  Frank,"  he  said,  "aren't  you  going  to 
marry  Evelyn?" 

Frank  stopped  in  the  act  of  poking  the  fire  and 
looked  at  Tom  with  a  half-surprised  expression. 

"No,"  he  replied  simply.  "She  doesn't  care  for 
me — in  that  way." 

"But,  Frank!"  expostulated  Tom,  "surely  you— 
you " 

"  Oh,  the  trouble  isn't  with  me ! "  answered  Frank 
in  matter-of-fact  tones.  "She  simply  doesn't  love 
me,  that's  all.  Besides,  I  should  never  ask  her,  I 
couldn't  ask  her  to  marry  me  with — my  deformity 
— even  if  she  loved  me,  which  she  doesn't." 

It  was  the  first  reference  he  had  ever  made  to 
Tom  concerning  his  infirmity,  and  the  last. 

He  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a  moment  at 
the  sunlight  checkered  rustling  leaves,  then  turned 
to  Tom  with  a  smile: 

"You're  the  only  one  she's  ever  cared  about,  old 
fellow.  Ask  her  and  see  for  yourself." 

Such  generous  loyalty,  in  contrast  to  his  own 
former  attitude,  made  Tom  ashamed. 

"You're  a  brick,  Frank!"  he  exclaimed  impul- 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       425 

sively.  "Perhaps  you're  mistaken.  Are  you 
sure?" 

"She  doesn't  love  me,"  Frank  repeated.  "That's 
all  there  is  to  it.  Now,  Tom,  go  to  it — with  my 
blessing." 

He  laughed  cheerfully  and  made  a  gesture  of 
benediction. 

"I'm  not  fit  to  ask  her,"  answered  Tom,  hanging 
his  head. 

"Nobody  is!"  said  Frank.  "By  the  way,  where 
are  you  going  to  live  this  winter?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Tom.  "I  can't  stay 
in  the  Newbury  Street  house  all  alone." 

Frank  turned  to  him  eagerly. 

"See  here,  Tom!"  he  cried.  "Why  don't  you 
come  and  hang  out  with  me  here?  I've  got  an  extra 
bedroom,  and  there  aren't  any  other  roomers.  We 
could  have  things  all  to  ourselves.  It  would  be 
simply  bully  if  you  would.  And — and — Tom !  I'm 
lonely!" 

Tom  put  his  arm  about  Frank's  shoulders.  Since 
his  mother's  death  he  was  easily  moved. 

"So  am  I,  Frank!"  he  said.  "If  you  can  stand 
me,  I'll  come  with  pleasure!  When  shall  it  be? 
Next  week?" 

"The  sooner  the  better!"  exclaimed  Frank. 

"Next  week,  then!  And  Bridget  shall  come 
along  and  take  care  of  us !"  exclaimed  Tom.  "And 
now  I've  got  to  beat  it!  Hello!  It's  nearly  five 
o'clock!  I'm  afraid  I'll  be  late  to  my  appoint 
ment!" 


426       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

The  fictional  appointment  was  the  offspring  of 
Frank's  unexpected  disclosure  about  Evelyn.  Up 
to  that  moment  the  consciousness  of  his  regenera 
tion  had  merely  mitigated  the  loathing  which  he 
entertained  for  his  past  conduct  and  encouraged 
him  to  feel  that  so  far  as  the  present  was  concerned 
he  might  look  his  fellow  men  in  the  face.  He  had 
been  yanked  back  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  pulled 
together  and  set  on  his  feet.  So  far,  he  had  been 
simply  like  a  drugged  person  resuscitated  and 
brought  to  his  senses.  But  now  he  felt  the  leap 
of  the  blood  in  his  veins  and  knew  he  was  really 
alive  again,  and  the  song  of  the  birds  was  sweet  in 
his  ears  and  the  sunlit  air  filled  him  with  a  joyous 
intoxication.  Life  held  something  to  live  for.  The 
greatest  prize  of  all  might  still  be  his,  unless,  for 
sooth,  he  deliberately  tossed  it  aside  as  he  had  be 
fore.  Blind  bat  that  he  had  been!  What  were 
Lulie  and  Pauline — he  squirmed  internally — beside 
her?  He  mustn't  lose  a  minute  in  making  up  the 
time  he  had  lost.  His  heart  knocked  almost  as 
loudly  against  his  ribs  as  did  his  knuckles  upon  the 
door  of  the  little  house  on  Appian  Way. 

"Come  in!" 

Evelyn  was  sitting  alone  by  the  window  in  the 
miniature  library,  sewing.  She  looked  exactly  as 
she  had  the  first  night  he  had  seen  her  there  in  his 
freshman  year,  only  a  shade  more  mature  per 
haps.  Had  she  heard  anything  ?  Had  some  officious 
friend  casually  dropped  any  calculated  innuendoes 
about  his  affairs  of  the  past  summer  ?  In  any  case, 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY      427 

she  should  know  him  for  exactly  what  he  was.  He 
would  keep  back  nothing.  She  looked  up,  smiling 
as  he  entered,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"Hello,  Tom!  Awfully  glad  to  see  you.  Dad's 
out.  Of  course,  come  in  just  the  same.  You  might 
even  have  a  pipe." 

Tom  started  to  raise  her  hand  to  his  lips,  then 
changed  his  mind  and  pressed  it  instead. 

"Thanks,"  he  answered  awkwardly,  perceiving 
that  his  task  was  going  to  be  no  easy  one.  "I  didn't 
come  to  see  your  father.  I  came  to  see  you." 

"That's  good,"  she  laughed.  "Well,  here  I  am, 
just  where  I've  always  been." 

He  looked  quickly  at  her  to  see  if  the  remark 
held  any  particular  significance  for  him,  but  ap 
parently  she  had  not  so  intended.  He  sat  down  in 
the  old  leather  chair  and  gazed  at  her  helplessly. 
What  a  delightful  picture  she  made  with  her  head 
bowed  over  her  work !  How  utterly  different  she 
was  from  the  girls  he  had  known  at  Newport !  But 
it  was  very  difficult  to  tell  her  so.  Several  minutes 
they  sat  thus  in  silence,  save  for  the  snapping  of 
the  coal  in  the  fireplace  and  the  heavy  breathing 
of  the  old  collie  on  the  rag  rug  in  front  of  it.  Then 
Evelyn  raised  her  eyes  and  laid  her  sewing  in  her 
lap. 

"Well,  Tom,"  she  said,  "it's  nice  to  have  you 
back  with  us  again." 

He  tried  to  speak,  stammered  and  gave  it  up. 
While  she  might  not  think  such  a  terrible  lot  of 
him,  nevertheless,  she  had  no  idea  what  a  cad  he 


428       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

had  been.  He  had  her  good-will — at  any  rate,  and 
it  was  hard  to  utter  the  words  which  might  alter 
it  to  disgust.  He  shook  his  head  mutely  and  his 
lids  dropped  as  if  made  of  lead,  heavy  as  his  heart. 
He  was  thinking  of  his  last  interview  with  Lulie 
and  the  recollection  of  it  was  like  a  bad  taste  in  his 
mouth.  Could  he  ask  a  decent  girl  to  care  for  him 
after  the  way  he  had  demeaned  himself?  And 
Pauline!  He  sat  there  stultified  with  abasement. 
Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  for  his  character  that 
the  excuses  of  inexperience,  youth,  and  loneliness 
did  not  suggest  themselves  to  him.  He  felt  only 
his  degradation.  And  now  that  he  realized  that 
he  had  never  really  cared  for  any  one  but  Evelyn 
— that  what  he  had  taken  for  or  was  willing  to 
accept  as  a  substitute  for  love  had  been  nothing 
but  the  imaginings  of  a  brain  poisoned  by  the  at 
mosphere  in  which  he  had  been  thrown — it  seemed 
incredible  that  he  could  have  ever  allowed  her  sweet 
image  to  have  been  effaced  from  his  mind.  He  made 
a  disconsolate  picture  as  he  sat  there  struggling 
with  his  desire  to  tell  her  everything  and  beg  for 
her  forgiveness  and  his  reluctance  to  destroy  her 
confidence  in  him. 

Evelyn  saw  how  troubled  he  was  and  made  an 
effort  to  put  him  at  ease. 

"Poor  Tom!"  she  said  gently.  "How  hard  it 
has  all  been  for  you !" 

He  groaned  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"Oh,  Evelyn!  If  you  only  knew  what  a  beast 
I've  been,  you  might  never  speak  to  me  again !" 


THE  WORLD  AND   THOMAS  KELLY       429 

"Why,  Tom!"  she  protested.  "How  can  you 
say  such  a  thing!" 

"Listen!"  he  burst  out  suddenly  through  his 
teeth.  "You  don't  know  me.  I'm  an  entirely 
different  sort  of  chap  from  what  you  think.  I've 
been  a  miserable,  low-down  cad!" 

She  raised  troubled  brows  to  him  over  her  sew 
ing. 

"Oh,  Tom!"  she  answered.  "You  have  been 
so  brave.  I'm  sure  you  do  yourself  an  injustice." 

"No!"  he  insisted,  now  ready  for  the  plunge. 
"I've  been  a  wretched  coward,  a  reckless  fool, 
and — and  worse!  I've  got  to  tell  you,  Evelyn! 
Don't  stop  me !  I  couldn't  go  on  living  unless  you 
knew!" 

She  turned  her  face  again  to  her  work,  and  there 
was  a  slight  flush  above  her  collar  and  around  the 
roots  of  her  hair. 

"What  I'm  going  to  tell  you  may  seem  strange 
after  the  way  I  acted  on  Class  Day!"  he  hur 
ried  on  shamefacedly.  "I  don't  know  what  pos 
sessed  me  that  night.  I  hope  you  have  forgiven 
me!" 

She  smiled,  and  her  smile  was  everywhere  at 
once,  in  her  eyes,  her  dimple,  and  her  hair. 

"Are  you  taking  back  what  you  said?"  she  in 
quired  innocently. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I'm  merely  asking  you  to 
let  me  have  a  chance  before  you  give  me  an  an 


swer." 


"You   didn't  deserve   any   answer — then!"   she 


430       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

replied,  looking  away  from  him.  "You  didn't 
know  me — any  more  than  you  say  I  know  you. 
To  you  I  was  just  a  pencil  sketch  of  a  girl  in  pink 
ribbons  with  a  pair  of  black  eyes,  a  violin-case,  and 
a  collie  dog!" 

A  look  of  appreciation  broke  over  his  face. 

"It's  rather  a  queer  thing  to  say,"  he  admitted 
slowly,  "but,  Evelyn,  I  really  believe  you're  right! 
I  never  got  below  the  surface  of  anything — even 
you !  I  was  a  sort  of  original  Peter  Bell — to  whom 
a  primrose  on  the  river's  brim  was  just  a  primrose 
and  nothing  else.  Somehow,  I  think  you  know  me 
better  than  I  supposed ! " 

His  laugh  was  rueful,  but  it  was  a  laugh  none 
the  less. 

"Anyhow,  it's  all  right  as  long  as  you  can  laugh 
about  it,"  she  consoled  him.  "I  think  a  laugh — 
on  oneself,"  her  voice  lowered,  "is  the  best  evi 
dence  of  a  clear  conscience.  So  to  that  extent 
you're  all  right." 

Another  silence  followed,  comfortable;  without 
constraint.  Then  Tom  said: 

"Some  day  I'm  going  to  put  that  question  to 
you  again  and  insist  on  an  answer.  But  I  couldn't 
do  it  unless  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  everything. 
I've  got  to  begin  all  over  again,  and  I've  come  to 
ask  you  to  help  me.  I  thought  that  what  was  be 
tween  us  wasn't  the  thing  to  tell  a  girl.  It  wasn't 
— to  the  pink-ribbon — violin-case — kind.  But  it's 
different  with  you,  Evelyn.  Somehow,  I  feel  as  if 
I  couldn't  hide  anything  from  you  anyway.  So 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY      431 

here  goes.  I'm  going  to  get  the  whole  rotten  busi 
ness  off  my  chest!" 

"Have  you  so  much  to  say  to  me?"  she  asked, 
a  note  of  timidity  in  her  voice. 

"Indeed  I  have!"  he  retorted  passionately.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  bare  his  soul  to  her,  to 
leave  nothing  unconfessed,  to  start  clean  and  fair. 
"But  I  want  to  say  something  at  the  start,  not  by 
way  of  defense  but  of  explanation.  You  see,  I  never 
had  anything  definite  to  steer  by.  I  couldn't  stand 
the  old-fashioned  kind  of  religion  that  my  mother 
taught  me.  It  didn't  ring  true  to  me.  And  no 
body  offered  me  a  satisfactory  substitute.  So 
I've  just  drifted  along  any  old  way.  I've  been 
weak  and  silly,  a  conceited  ass  without  anything 
to  be  conceited  about,  and,  because  I  thought  you 
cared  for  some  one  else,  I  just  let  myself  go " 

"You  mean  Frank?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  I  always  supposed  you  were  in  love  with 
him." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"He's  a  dear  friend,  but  I've  never  loved  him," 
she  said,  looking  frankly  at  Tom. 

"If  I'd  only  known  that,"  he  sighed,  "every 
thing  would  have  been  different.  But  I  didn't! 
Oh,  Evelyn !  I  don't  know  how  to  begin,  but  I've 
come  to  tell  you  the  whole  story  and  I'm  going 
through  with  it;  that  is,  if  you'll  let  me?"  he  added 
submissively. 

She  did  not  refuse.  Her  curiosity  would  have 
impelled  acquiescence  in  his  request,  if  nothing  else. 


432       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

But  there  was  something  else — of  which  she  had 
always  been  conscious  from  their  first  accidental 
meeting  in  the  Yard,  the  something  else  that  no 
science  or  philosophy  can  explain. 

"I  am  listening,  Tom,"  she  said  half  to  herself. 

He  pulled  his  chair  nearer  to  her  and,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  intently  on  her  face,  brokenly  made  his 
confession.  Doggedly  he  recited  his  ignominious 
experience  at  Newport,  including  every  detail  of 
his  affairs  with  Lulie  and  Pauline,  every  low  and 
mercenary  thought  that  he  had  entertained,  every 
callous  neglect  of  his  mother.  It  was  a  crude — a 
preposterous — an  extraordinary  performance.  And 
it  was  a  hard  position  for  a  girl  to  find  herself  in. 
Gradually  Tom's  face  grew  drawn,  almost  haggard. 
But  he  went  stubbornly  on  until  there  was  nothing 
left  to  tell,  and  when  it  was  over  he  wiped  the  beads 
of  perspiration  from  his  forehead  with  his  fingers, 
closed  his  eyes,  and  gave  a  great,  shuddering  sigh 
of  relief. 

He  was  thankful  to  her  for  letting  him  sit  there, 
motionless,  head  thrown  back,  as  long  as  he  liked. 
Presently  he  opened  his  eyes,  got  up,  and  stood 
before  her. 

"Now  I'm  ready  to  begin  to  try  to  make  good," 
he  said.  As  he  spoke,  he  saw  her  move  a  fraction  of 
an  inch  in  his  direction,  saw  her  breast  rise  and 
fall  a  little  quicker  for  the  quickening  of  her  breath. 
Could  Frank's  assurance — that  Evelyn  cared  for 
him — possibly  be  true?  This  was  no  time  to  ask 
her,  anyhow,  just  after  he  had  told  her  all  about 


THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY       433 

himself — shown  himself  up  for  a  whited  sepulchre. 
She  was  simply  disgusted  with  him,  probably. 

"Will  you  help  me?"  he  asked. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  he  took  her  hand.  To 
his  surprise,  he  felt  that  she  was  trembling. 

"Of  course!"  she  said,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face.  "Tom !  You're  not  a  coward,  you're  a  brave 
boy!" 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"No,"  he  protested,  "I'm  not.  I  had  to  tell 
you,  don't  you  see?  There  wouldn't  have  been 
any  use  trying  to  be  different — unless  you  knew 
I  was  different." 

He  still  held  her  hand.  She  had  not  drawn  it 
away,  and  he  could  see  a  mist  gathering  in  her  eyes. 
A  strange,  wonderful,  ecstatic  feeling  pervaded 
him — almost  made  him  dizzy.  He  too  was  trem 
bling.  He  lifted  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  you — dear,"  he  whispered,  "I 
couldn't  try.  There'd  be  nothing  to  make  it  worth 
while.  But  if — if  some  day — after  I've  left  the 
law  school — after  I've  made  good — there'd  be  a 
chance — ever  so  small — of  your  saying  yes  to 
that  question  I  asked  you — then,  why  then " 

He  stopped  amazed,  for  her  lips  were  quivering 
and  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  had  deepened  to  a  man 
tle  of  dark  red. 

"Then?"  she  smiled  through  tear-hung  lashes. 
"Only  then?" 

"Evelyn!"  he  cried  with  a  great  leap  of  the 
heart,  still  unbelieving,  and  drew  her  to  him. 


434       THE  WORLD  AND  THOMAS  KELLY 

"Evelyn!"  he  repeated,  gathering  her  in  his 
arms  and  pressing  his  lips  to  the  hair  above  her 
forehead.  "Dearest  girl!  I  need  you  now /" 

She  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  he  could 
feel  the  fluttering  of  her  heart  against  his. 

"Oh,  Tom!"  she  sighed,  closing  her  eyes — "I 
think  you  do !" 


BY     ARTHUR     TRAIN 

The  Butler's  Story 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  YOHN.    $1.25  no* 

"After  reading  him  we  can  add  to  the  service  he 
has  done  us  by  reaching  to  the  shelf  where  rests  our 
Thackeray  and  rereading  the  'Yellowplush  Papers.'" 

— Boston  Transcript. 

"  Mr.  Train  has  done  a  highly  artistic  bit  of  work 
and  has  written  an  unusually  original  and  diverting 
story." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

The  Confessions  of  Artemas 
Quibble  of  the  New  York  Bar 

His  Autobiography  Revised  and  Edited 
Illustrated.     12mo.    $1.30  net 

"The  ingenuous  and  unvarnished  history  of  Artemas 
Quibble,  Esquire,  one-time  practitioner  in  the  New 
York  Criminal  Courts."  Mr.  Artemas  Quibble  is  un 
questionably  a  rogue.  It  is  also  unquestionable  that 
he  is  very  human.  He  is  a  real  character,  just  as 
"  David  Harum  "  was;  just  as  was  the  "  Self -Made 
Merchant "  who  wrote  letters  to  "  his  Sons." 

"In  easily  understood  and  entertaining  form  an 
analysis  of  the  crooked  criminal  lawyer  and  commer 
cial  shyster." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  Curious  and  impressive  story." — Chicago  Herald. 


BY     ARTHUR     TRAIN 

TRUE  STORIES  OF 
CRIME 

FROM  THE  DISTRICT  ATTORNEY'S  OFFICE 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.35  net 

"  The  fascination  of  the  detective  story  and  the  flavor 
of  truth  combine  to  give  these  stories  a  unique  place 
in  literature." — Montreal  Gazette. 

"Each  chapter  recounts  some  peculiar  and  notable 
phase  of  criminal  activity.  It  is  a  fascinating  book 
for  any  one  who  loves  the  dramatic  unfolding  of  a 
mystery." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  He  has  a  field  of  his  own  which  he  exploits  cleverly, 
earnestly,  and  what  is  better  than  either  from  the 
reader's  standpoint,  interestingly." 

— Minneapolis  Tribune. 

"The  stories  read  like  fiction  rather  than  a  tran 
script  from  the  criminal  records." 

— Springfield  Union. 

"He  makes  living  entities  of  the  characters  and  pre 
sents  them  to  the  mind  in  their  proper  environ 
ment." — Boston  Globe. 


BY      ARTHUR      TRAIN 

COURTS, 

CRIMINALS  AND 

THE  CAMORRA 

12mo.     $1.75  net 

A  graphic  account  of  detectives  and  their  work,  of  the 
preparation  of  a  big  criminal  case,  of  the  Camorrist  trial 
at  Viterbo  and  the  working  of  the  Camorra  in  Italy  and 
here.  The  author's  discussion  of  such  topics  as  "  Why- 
Do  Men  Kill  ?  "  "  The  Presumption  of  Innocence,"  etc., 
are  full  of  knowledge  derived  from  wide  experience  as  a 
prosecutor  of  crime. 


CONTENTS 

The  Neapolitan  The  Presumption  of  In- 
Camorra  nocence 

An  American  Lawyer  at  Sensationalism  in  Jury 
the  Camorra  Trial  Trials 

The  Italian  in  America  Detectives    and    Detec- 

Preparing  a  Criminal  tive  Work 

Case  for  Trial  Detectives  and  Others 
Why  Do  Men  Kill? 


Mr.  Train's  long  service  as  an  Assistant  District  Attorney 
of  New  York  County  gave  him  an  unusual  opportunity 
for  studying  the  natures  and  the  methods  of  criminals ;  and 
from  the  fund  of  knowledge  accumulated  in  that  way  are 
largely  drawn  the  information  and  the  incidents  that  go 
to  form  this  fascinating  book.  As  for  the  Camorra,  the 
author  has  not  only  studied  its  activities  in  this  country, 
but  in  Italy.  He  was  himself  present  at  the  recent  trial, 
and  describes  it  in  a  series  of  vivid,  brilliant  pictures. 


BY      ARTHUR      TRAIN 

THE  PRISONER  AT 
THE  BAR 

SIDE  LIGHTS  ON  THE  ADMINISTRATION 

OF  CRIMINAL  JUSTICE 

8vo.     $1.50  net 

A  new  edition  of  this  successful  book  containing  an 
additional  chapter  dealing  with  insanity  as  a  defence  in 
criminal  cases,  an  Index  and  a  valuable  Bibliography. 
Professor  Wigmore,  of  Northwestern  University,  the 
leading  authority  on  the  law  of  evidence,  has  written 
a  highly  appreciative  preface  to  this  new  edition. 


CONTENTS 

What  Is  Crime?  The  Trial  of  Felonies 

Who  are  the  Real  The  Judge 

Criminals  ?  The  Jury 

The  Arrest  The  Witness 

The  Police  Court  The  Verdict 

The  Trial  of  Misdemeanors    The  Sentence 
The  Grand  Jury  Women  in  the  Courts 

The  Law's  Delays  Tricks  of  the  Trade 

Red  Tape  What  Fosters  Crime? 

Insanity  as  a  Defence 


"  He  has  succeeded  in  investing  the  topic  with  an  interest 
considerably  exceeding  that  of  the  ordinary  novel." 

— New  York  Tribune. 

"There  was  need  for  just  such  a  book  as  Arthur  Train 
has  given  us.  ...  It  is  a  volume  as  entertaining  as  it  is 
instructive,  and  it  is  packed  with  anecdotes  drawn  from 
the  author's  personal  experiences  or  observation,  or  cur 
rent  among  members  of  the  New  York  Bar.  The  book 
deserves  a  careful  reading. " — Springfield  Republican. 


BY      ARTHUR      TRAIN 

MCALLISTER  AND 
HIS  DOUBLE 

Illustrated.      I2mo.     $1.35  net 

"  Since  Richard  Harding  Davis  wrote  about  Van 
Bibber  there  have  been  no  short  stories  with  a  Man 
hattan  background  more  entertaining  than  those  in 
Arthur  Train's  '  McAllister  and  His  Double.'  They 
have  a  very  superior  urban  quality  and  show  a  fresh 
ness  of  invention  and  delicacy  of  handling  that  are 
quite  unusual  in  stories  of  the  town." — N.  Y.  Globe. 

"Aside  from  the  entertainment  afforded  by  the  fun 
and  nonsense  of  the  stories,  there  is  here  and  there  a 
deep  note  struck  that  makes  them  worth  considering 
seriously,  a  note  of  sympathy  for  the  under  dog,  of 
pity  and  understanding  for  the  poor  wretches  who  are 
down,  that  gives  the  tales  a  strong  human  appeal." 

—Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"A  spirited  series  of  entertaining  narratives  of  a 
somewhat  original  detective  type." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  Mr.  Train  knows  how  to  tell  a  good  story,  and 
understands  the  art  of  springing  his  climax  at  the 
psychological  moment." — Nashville  American. 

"  The  McAllister  stories  are  entertaining  from  start  to 
finish." — The  Independent. 

"Written  with  a  combined  snap  and  humor  that 
make  them  a  very  safe  investment  as  a  source  of 
entertainment." — Life. 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


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